Southern Charm
by kmp101592
Summary: Sam and Dean meet their match in a small Southern town. Emma Dixon has had a rough life, but with Sam and Dean in the picture, maybe things could start to work out for her and the boys...maybe. SamOC, possible DeanJo.
1. Chapter 1

AN: thanks for giving my story a chance! i really appreciate it. it would make my day if someone would review, but i understand if you dont. enjoy!

Disclaimer: I only own Emma, Tucker, and Dixie Dixon's Motel, for now. Anything you recognize is not mine.

* * *

I was tired.

My back ached from the pounding I'd gotten from the vamp I'd dusted the night before. He was one mean SOB, but he learned real quick that no bloodsucking leech was going to do his dirty work in my motel, especially with my cousin's ex-girlfriend. I won't lie, I never liked Manda much, but I wasn't going to let her be some hillbilly vampire's dinner.

The motel had been in my family since my grandfather, Lieutenant Wilmer J. Dixon, built it with his bare hands after returning from Nazi occupied France in WWII. To put it simply, "Dixie Dixon's Motel" was his life – my granny still insists that he loved it more than he loved her.

But, it was mine now, left to me when my parents died about a year back. I was just 18 at the time, thank God; I don't think I could've handled going to a foster home or orphanage or wherever the hell they send kids without parents these days. Then, when you factor in the story I told the cops when I came to after the "accident", well, no one would have taken me anyways.

Anyhow, I was tired and sore. It was nearly a quarter after midnight and, though we did often receive patrons that thought I ran a HO-tel and not a respectable establishment about this time, business was pretty much nonexistent.

"Hey, Emma, where'd you put the Pine Sol?"

I turned around and looked through the open door to the back room where we kept all the cleaning supplies. My little cousin, Tucker, was kneeling in front of the cabinet under the sink, searching through the endless number of bottles of cleaning supplies.

"I already put it with the mop and bucket I laid out for you on the caddy in the bathroom."

"Which one?"

"Men's room." He didn't reply. "Go on and do your job."

He groaned and slammed the cabinet doors shut.

"Hey now," I said, moving out from behind the desk and towards the back room. "Just because you're family doesn't mean I have any qualms with firing your sorry little ass. Is that understood?"

He sighed, dramatic as always, and nodded before standing up and dragging his feet to the men's room.

"Come on, Tuck, speed it up," I said. "We aint got all night."

"Yeah, yeah, I know-" he mumbled, but was cut off by the ringing of the bell over the front door. He and I both turned to greet our new guests.

"Hi there, welcome to Dixie Dixon's Motel, how may I help you?" I said as cheerfully as was humanly possible from someone at a quarter after midnight who had a sore back from a redneck vamp.

There were two guys standing there, looking about as exhausted as I felt. Now, just because we're in the South doesn't mean we don't support all of God's children, or at least that's what my momma always said whenever we'd get a pair like these two come in for a night.

"Um, we need a room," the taller of the two said, smiling down sleepily. "Preferably one with two beds."

I quirked an eyebrow and nodded – it wasn't often we'd get two straight guys staying in the same room – but I shrugged it off and passed the register to him.

"Just fill that out and we'll get you all set up. Do yall need any help getting your bags inside?"

The young man shook his head, but the one behind him said, "Sure sweetheart, that'd be great."

I glanced up at him and the dumbass winked at me. Tuck, who had just come out of the men's room smelling strongly of disinfectant, tried to stifle his laughter, but it was impossible not to hear him.

"Uh, Larson," the tall guy shot the short one a look and pushed the register back to me.

"Now, Mr. Ulrich and Mr. Mustaine, here are your keys," I was sure to give them to the tall one, mainly because he wasn't an asshole. "Tuck will show you to your room."

"Emma," he moaned, but I mustered up my most venomous look and he backed down with a soft, "Fine. Follow me."

He reached out a hand to open the door leading back out to the front of the motel.

And all hell broke loose.

* * *

Dean and I had been on the road for what felt like years. Driving from Arizona to the Alabama/Florida border non-stop is no small feat. Needless to say, when we saw the lit up motel sign, we didn't even take a second glance; we were simply too tired to go on. Dean pulled up in front of the motel, not even bothering to park properly, and we got out of the car and made our way inside. To be honest, I wasn't paying much attention to our surroundings (something Dad would have shot me for) until someone spoke.

"Hi there, welcome to Dixie Dixon's Motel, how may I help you?"

I glanced up and – oh dear God.

She was beautiful: long blond hair, great body, clear blue eyes, killer smile, and definitely Dean's type, judging by her clothes, or lack thereof. I took a deep breath thinking about how it should be illegal to own shorts that short.

Dean, apparently still getting over the shock of her, didn't make a move or say a word (which was a first for him).

"Um, we need a room," I said, smiling slightly. I saw her eyes dart between Dean and myself and added, "Preferably one with two beds."

She kind of smirked a little to herself and nodded. "Just fill that out and we'll get you all set up." She handed me an old timey register. "Do yall need any help getting your bags inside?"

I shook my head no and filled out the information requested, using two of Dean's favorite aliases.

"Sure sweetheart, that'd be great."

I groaned internally and looked up just in time to see Dean wink at her. A younger guy, probably about 15 or 16 years old, came out of the men's room about that time and, though he obviously tried not to, laughed.

"Uh, Larson," I grounded out, throwing him a dirty look, as I passed the register back to the young woman.

Judging by the look on her face, she was not Dean's type after all. But she acted professionally and smiled, looking only a little annoyed.

"Now, Mr. Ulrich and Mr. Mustaine, here are your keys," she handed me two room keys. "Tuck will show you to your room."

"Emma," the kid moaned, but after a look from 'Emma' he turned to us, defeated. "Fine. Follow me."

He reached to grasp the door knob with his right hand.

And all hell broke loose.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: thanks for reading : ) reviews would be highly appreciated!

* * *

Chapter 2

"What the-?" was all Tuck was able to get out before he was thrown across the room. He landed on his back with a sickening thud against the wall, sliding down until he lay like a little crumpled doll in a heap on the floor.

"Oh shit," I said, but I wasn't the only one.

I turned to the tall guy and his friend. It's not everyday that you meet people that don't run around like chickens with their heads cut off when they're attacked

"Yall hide behind the desk," I said quickly, reaching into my boot to pull out the acinaces that I always kept their. Both men's eyes widened considerably at the size of the large dagger and, if it hadn't been such a serious situation, I know I would have rubbed it in a little bit and laughed at their shock.

"No," the short one said, having to raise his voice over the sound of the sudden wind that was rushing into the room. "You don't know what you're dealing with, sweetheart. Let us handle it."

He went to push me behind him and the tall guy, but there was no way in hell I was going to let that happen. Just as he took a step in front of me and put his right arm in front of my chest, I grabbed his wrist and twisted until he was on his knees and put my knife at the base of his throat.

"Sammy!" he shouted. "Get her off me!"

'Sammy' took a giant step forward to grab me around the waist, but with a flick of my wrist the ground beneath him caved in, making a perfect circle with him at the epicenter, a good nine or ten feet down.

"Holy shit!" Sam exclaimed, having realized what I had just done.

I ignored him and leaned forward against the short guy, my mouth level with his left ear.

"Listen, bud, I don't have time for this right now. We're about to get attacked by a nest of redneck vampires. The only way you and your friend are gonna stay safe is if you listen to me, got it?"

"No, Sam and I, we're like you," he said, breathlessly.

"Bullshit," I mumbled, letting him go and pushing him away.

He fell forward onto all fours and I used the wind to pick him up and dump him none too gently into the hole with this Sam guy. I heard them both grunt when he fell on top of him.

I glanced towards the door, which was still blessedly empty. I knew from past experience that the vamps were just toying with us, trying to scare us into submission. But they didn't know me - they'd be the ones submitting with a stake through their hearts when I was done with them.

Tucker was still unconscious on the floor. I did the same to him as I did to the short guy, except much more carefully.

"Catch him," I ordered the tall one, who followed my directions, staring up at me confusedly.

"What are you?" he breathed, almost silently.

I just turned away and stepped calmly to the door.

"Come on in, you bloodsucking ingrates," I shouted, seeing their outlines shift in the trees. "Don't you wanna come in and play? Your leader sure did," I smiled as I heard a collective growl from the group. They were spread all around, I gathered, a good forty or fifty of them. "But, I guess he got on the wrong end of the stick, or should I say stake."

With a roar, they started sprinting the ninety yards from the woods to the door. I raised my hands up and a fierce wind blew in through the back room Tucker had been messing around in just a few minutes prior, carrying on it the hundred or so leftover stakes I had. I heard Sam and his friend gasp from the pit, but ignored them.

I pushed my hands outward from my chest and the stakes flew through the air, diving through the hearts of the vampires. It was over in less than ten seconds; all that was left of the vamp's nest was a giant dust cloud. I sighed and turned around to the pit.

Two pairs of eyes met mine.

"What the fuck was that?" Shorty shouted, turning rather red in the face.

"Don't worry about it," was my reply. I had already been extremely tired before the vamp attack, now my powers had exhausted me. "The less you know the better, bud."

I raised my hand palm up and the ground they were on leveled up. Tuck was laid out just behind Sam, a small line of blood trickling from his hairline.

"But we-" Sam started, but I interrupted.

"Look, I'll explain everything to you later if you'll just help me with him." I took a deep breath and held my hands out to Tuck. He lifted off the ground and just floated there for a second before I started walking towards my room. He "lead the way", so to speak, and we didn't have any problems until we reached the door. I looked behind me; dumb and dumber had been following, looking confused (and awestruck) as hell.

"Well, are you gonna help a lady out or not?" I asked expectantly, but that only seemed to confuse them more. "My lord, can one of you dumbshits open the damn door for me?"

Sam looked at his shorter friend. The guy backed up and shook his head, so Sam apparently manned up and opened the door for me.

"Thank you," I said and smiled. He just looked at me and smiled back, albeit quizzically.

It only took a few minutes to get Tucker all bandaged up. He moaned and groaned in his sleep, but I knew he was fine.

Sam and his friend just sat there, watching me work. It was uncomfortable, let me tell you, with those two staring holes in my back. When I was done with Tuck, I turned back around to look at them.

"Well?"

"Well what?" Shorty asked.

"Well, why are yall still here?" I gave them my best 'are yall really that stupid' look.

"Because we're like you," Sam said, standing up suddenly. "Well, sort of, I guess."

I thought about what he said for a second and put it all together.

"So yall are hunters." I said; it wasn't a question.

They nodded.

"But what the hell are you?"

I turned to the short guy and said, "I think you mean, _who_ the hell are you. I was just wondering the same thing."

The boys exchanged a look for a second, then Sam answered, "I'm Sam Winchester, he's my brother Dean."

"I'm Emma, Emma Dixon. That's my cousin Tucker," I nodded in his direction.

Dean looked at me, questions dancing around in his gaze.

"But really, what the hell are you?"


	3. Chapter 3

AN: here you go! now, i am going to be out of town and out of commision for a while (aka, 3 weeks) because i am going on a mission trip with my church. so please bear with me! i promise to update as soon as i get back, especially if i get some reviews! and i know this one is pretty short, but it's a basis for the rest of the plot. enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 3

"But really, what the hell are you?"

I sighed; if I was ever going to meet someone who could understand this blessing – or, sometimes, curse – it was these two. Sam and Dean looked at me intently, gauging my reaction to the question, wondering if I would answer.

"I don't know," I finally said. "No one really does. My mom had it, her mom had it, and so on. Honestly, I don't think there ever was a woman in my family that didn't have it."

"It," Sam said, tensely. "You make it sound like some sort of disease."

"Well, if you think about it, maybe it is." I smiled slightly at him and he gave me an apologetic glance.

"Well, whatever it is, it kicks ass," Dean grinned from across the room, though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes – he was concerned (about me or himself, I don't know), but obviously did not trust me.

"I guess," I shrugged. "It can sure come in handy in a fight, but when you're really pissed at an ex-boyfriend…well, sometimes it's more trouble than it's worth."

Both boys kind of smiled and nodded and then silence settled over the room. It was broken only by Tucker's quiet exhalations and the ticking of the old clock hanging next to the doorway.

"So," Dean and I both jumped a little bit when Sam spoke. "How exactly does it work?"

I shrugged. "Cant really tell you. I just raise my hands and use it."

"You use it?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I don't know how. If I want to start a fire, I just do. If I want to water the plants without the hose, it happens. If the air conditioning breaks, I get a breeze. And if two strange men come into my motel right before a vampire attack, I make a pit in the ground and throw 'em in it." I laughed a little.

"Wait," Sam stood up and reached into his backpack. He pulled out a crappy looking old journal and started flipping through the pages at an appalling speed. "Here it is."

He pointed to a page near the back of the little book. It looked as if it had been torn from some old tome; it was made of yellowed parchment and the words were handwritten. To the side of the paragraph were five eyes, drawn one on top of the other with a small Latin inscription at the bottom of each. The iris of the first eye was completely gray, except for the minute steel hued flecks that had been painted randomly throughout. Underneath was "aer". The eye right bellow it started out brown near the pupil, but faded into a mossy green, glittered with golden flecks here and there with "terra" in a neat script underneath. The third eye was firecracker red swirled with streamers of bronze and had "ignis" beneath it. The last eye, I felt, was the most beautiful: the iris was rimmed in a silver that faded into blue, then aqua, then pure green as it neared the pupil. Its inscription was "unda".

" 'Aer', 'terra', 'ignis', and 'unda'." I looked up at Sam and Dean who were studying the page just as intently as I had been. "That means-"

"Air, earth, fire, and water." Sam intoned. He gave me a searching look. "You're an elemental. You can control the elements."


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Thank you so much to all of my reviewers; I really appreciate you giving me your honest opinions and helpful advice (God knows I need it!). thanks for sticking with me : )

* * *

Chapter 4

"So what? Is she, like, some sort of a freak?"

I glared up at Dean – who was happily reclining in an old lazy boy -, not even bothering to hide the immediate anger his accession had warranted.

"No, of course she isn't a freak." I took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. After we'd made that little discovery about Emma, she showed us to our room. She left pretty quickly, saying that she needed time to think about this new development in her life. I guess its one thing to know you're capable of something, but a whole other thing altogether to have that ability labeled. "If anything, she's hunter royalty. It says here," I motioned to the page, "that these 'elementals' were the very first hunters , apparently gifted by the Gods to destroy the various creatures, though some argue that they aren't all that different from the things that they hunt. The major distinction is that their powers are natural and biological, they don't have to kill or cast a spell to survive. Really, they're quite harmless."

"Except for the whole, 'I can control nature' thing." Dean grinned.

"Yeah," I sighed. "Except for that."

"Wait, what was that you said about them and 'the Gods'?" he asked, sitting up and leaning on an elbow. "That they were gifted?"

"Yeah, the Greek Gods – you know, Zeus, Hera, Aphrodite, Hades – pooled their powers and placed them in three young women. Some say that they were the first Amazons."

"Emma is an Amazon?" he shouted. "Dude, that's so hot! But why isn't she, like, ten feet all? Maybe she's a midget Amazon."

I rolled my eyes; sometimes it was so hard to believe that he and I share the same genes. "That's just a myth. The Amazons were just a race of women, not giant women. Maybe it was their independence that made them seem larger than life to the men that tried to conquer them."

He gave me an incredulous look. "You are such a geek."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Oh, just shut up."

* * *

I sat on the bed next to Tucker and looked down at him. He was the last bit of family I had.

My parents died in a car accident. Or, at least, that's what the official report says. But I know better. They died trying to save me. It was all my fault, really. They had told me not to go out, not to be on the road that night, not to see Jimmy. But I did and they paid the price.

I had been seeing Jimmy for a couple of years and, whether I like to admit it or not, things were getting pretty serious. But we were only 18, barely legal, and pretty dumb. Or at least I was. He was brainwashing me, I realize that now, and trying to make me leave everyone I loved behind to journey off with him to "start our own life together, just the two of us".

Bullshit.

My parents tried to warm me – my mom specifically. She would tell me, "I don't want you to go out with Jimmy tonight, it just doesn't feel right" or "Why don't you eat dinner with us, sweetheart, I made your favorite dessert: Nana's Cakebread". She was subtle, but stubborn; I guess that's where I got it from.

The night they died was the night they were the most forceful about me staying home. It had been raining all day, truly torrential downpours, and the roads were still pretty slick. But I wanted to see Jimmy, I wanted to hold his hand, and have him smile that beautiful smile at me. They tried to stop me: momma tried to take my keys from me with her powers – she had never used them on me before – and dad threatened to call the cops, on what grounds I will never know.

I lied to them, told them that I gave up, was going to bed, and would see them in the morning. So, of course they were expecting me to sneak out. The thing they didn't count on was Jimmy being there to pick me up.

I don't remember too much from there (according to the doctor, the human brain has ways of protecting itself from painful memories and my brain knew every one of those ways), but the one thing I will never forget was Jimmy pulling off the road and telling me to stay in the car. He got out, slammed the door behind him, and stalked off toward the back of the car.

I turned around and glanced back: my parents had followed us and were parked right behind Jimmy's car. They had gotten out as well and talked for a minute. Then my mother screamed.

And then they were dead. How, I cant remember, but maybe someday I will.

I stood up and walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I stared into the mirror, into myself. I don't know long I just stood there like some narcissistic ass staring at myself, but eventually my vision began to blur and hot tears rolled down my cheeks. I slid down until I was curled up in a little ball with my back to the wall and just cried. I cried for my parents who were taking too soon, for Tucker who was now involved, and for me, for having this amazing power to not control nature, but to ruin everything I touched. I knew all along that there was only one way to make things right:

I was going to have to kill that yellow eyed son of a bitch.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: I'm back! The mission was a huge success; I am so glad to know that we were able to help so many people. Anyways, I'm going to put as much time and effort into this piece as possible, so any help would be much appreciated!

Chapter 5

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, which honestly didn't fit with my terrible mood. I was still sore (dammit!), but on top of that, my powers had really exhausted me…which was rather odd. Normally, I could do what I did last night and so much more without getting the least bit drowsy.

But, I do have to admit, the buttery light filtering in through the window made me feel, well, a little bit better. Sort of.

There was a groan and rustling over in the bed next to mine. I turned onto my side and glanced at Tucker. He was still out and something told me he wouldn't remember a thing about last night whenever he woke up.

I stretched and twisted in my sheets, then mustered up the will to get out of bed. The warn carpeting under my feet was comforting and familiar as I padded toward the bathroom. I took my sweet time in the shower, enjoying how the rushing hot water untangled the knots in my hair, as well as in my muscles and mind. It was truly refreshing.

After dressing, drying my hair, and applying a modest amount of make-up, I went to work, like always. Except, I realized as soon as I stepped into lobby, there was going to be a whole hell of a lot of "not like always" ahead of me today.

Sam Winchester was standing at the front desk, elbows resting on the flat surface, hands cupping his strong chin. With his eyes closed, he just stood there, breathing deeply and evenly. His broad back swelled in his dark t-shirt with each inhalation and longish hair brushed his forehead.

And I just stood there, staring at him like some prepubescent little girl with an agenda.

After the attack last night – and finding out about these two brothers – I had done a little research of my own (mainly to learn a little more about "elementals", but my curiosity had gotten the better of me on the Winchester front); to put it simply, just being around these boys was like a death sentence in itself. I mean, yeah, they were both hot as hell, but I needed them in my life just about as much as I needed a hole in my head.

However, the most important thing that I learned was that the two of them and I were in the same boat: we were after the same demon.

So, I pushed the prepubescent girl aside and strode up to Sam and tapped him on the shoulder, saying "Well, Mr. Winchester, you and I need to have a little talk."

He jerked up, nearly catching me in the face with his elbow in the process.

"Oh, umm, Emma," he stuttered, swaying slightly from pulling his head up so quickly. "I, uh, I didn't see you there."

"Well, I certainly didn't miss you," I said, smiling as gently as possible. Sam looked like he had had one hell of a night, besides the whole vampire attack. "But then again, I doubt my blind uncle Joe could miss a six and a half foot tall man resting on the counter. Did you sleep well?"

He laughed a little at my analogy (but I wasn't about to tell him I wasn't joking about uncle Joe) and shrugged.

"I've slept better. Or, more really," I quirked an eyebrow at him questioningly, so he added, " I was doing a little research on your, well, your situation."

I wont lie, I was a little flattered that he had stayed up late just to learn about was I was, but at the some time I was a little miffed; what exactly did he mean by my 'situation'? But I put it to the back of my mind and ignored it…for the time being.

"Hmm, well that's funny," I said, smirking. "I did a little research myself last night." He didn't do or say anything, just stood there and looked at me, so I continued. "I actually learned quite a bit about you Winchester boys, some of which was pretty, well, interesting, even in our line of work."

Sam was getting annoyed, mad, or both, judging by the way his shoulders tensed as I spoke. But I wasn't confronting him to be rude or use anything against him; I was genuinely curious and thought we could help each other out. I told him this and couldn't resist a small smile when he glanced at me with true confusion in his eyes as I mentioned us making a united front.

"I mean, you have to talk to your brother about it, I totally understand. But yall are kind of in the same boat I'm in. You two want this demon dead…and so do I."

"But why?" he asked, an inquiring spark in his eyes. "Why are you after this particular dem-"

"Good morning, my little Amazon!" Dean came strutting into the room, a huge grin planted on his face – completely oblivious to the clearly important conversation Sam and I were having. "So," he rubbed his hands together eagerly and his eyes crinkled happily. "What's for breakfast?"


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Sorry the last one was so short – I had to have a little filler chapter. Now, I don't want to be that really pushy author begging for reviews, but it would really be helpful. I need all the guidance I can get, and I know you guys are the best to give it out. So please?

Chapter 6

After a good ole southern breakfast of grits, bacon, and biscuits with gravy, the brothers and I had a little unexpected (and, for me, unwelcome) surprise.

I was rinsing off the dishes we had eaten off of, ignoring Sam's continuous offers to help, while I told them what all I had learned about their family.

"So, I know about what happened to your mother," I paused my washing and chanced a quick look over my shoulder at them. "I'm really sorry about that, by the way." The pair just avoided eye contact, but Sam raised his head after a moment of silence.

"How do you know all of this anyway?"

I smiled. "My good friend Jo and I always keep in touch."

Sam and Dean both grinned, but Dean more so than his brother.

"Now, Dean," I said, injected a little venom into my tone – I was pleased to see his Adam's apple bob as he gulped. "Jo isn't the kind of girl to take a 'hit it and quit it', especially from the likes of you. I swear, boy, if you so much as-"

"Emma!"

I froze. Oh no, not here, not now.

"Emmalaine Dixon, I know you're in there, dammit!"

Both boys looked at me questioningly. Sam made to stand up, but I motioned him back down: with Sam's height, he would be able to see the tall Winchester through the windowed gap between the curtains and the wall over the sink.

"Look, Emma," he continued, getting gradually closer and louder. "I know its been a while and when I left we weren't on the best of terms, but I really need to talk to you."

I ducked down and made my way to the door leading outside, grabbing my Uplander Supreme shotgun and making sure it was loaded.

"What the fuck, Emma?" Dean whispered leaning down in his chair, but I shushed him.

"Em, I'm serious." His voice was right at the door, but held a hint of gentleness it hadn't had before. "I happened upon something in town…your kind of something."

There was a moment of silence then a resounding crash as he kicked the door in and the blast of the shotgun as I fired.

* * *

"But did you really have to shoot me?" Beau gripped as he toweled off the blood coating his upper thigh.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh man up, it just grazed you. And besides, you should've known it was coming," he looked down sheepishly. "The day I sent you packing, I told you I'd shoot you if you ever came on my property again. It aint my fault you're just too damn stupid to listen."

"Now, don't talk to me like I'm some sort of-"

"Shut up!" Dean shouted, glancing between Beau and myself, then turning to me directly. "Who the hell is this guy?"

"I'm her boyfr-"

"He's my stupid, hick ex-boyfriend," I said, smirking mirthlessly. "Dumbshit here thought he could seduce my best friend without me finding out. Of course, he didn't factor in a couple of things, like the fact that Rose and I are practically sisters. Oh yeah, and that one little detail that sent your plan a crumbling down," I leaned in real close to his face. "She didn't want your hairy ass."

"Now dammit, Emma, I came here for a reason," he started and I just sighed heavily and flopped into the chair on the opposite side of the table. "I…we need your help."

"We?"

"Well, yeah, my girlfriend and I-"

"Oh hell, Beau, you got another one pregnant?"

"Now see here, Daisy wasn't actually pregnant with my kid, it was Cooper Dell's, she was just scared to tell him-"

"Oh, whatever!" I growled, not caring about the woes of that idiot Daisy Guthrie. "So, you got your newest girl preggers, and you want me to do what?"

He took a deep breath and ground out, "I did not get anyone pregnant, okay? Tanya and I just moved into a house and we think its haunted."

We all just sat there for a minute. The three men were obviously waiting on me to say something, but all I could do was sit there and think.

"So, now you believe me, do you?" I finally said, so quietly that Sam, standing by the broken in door, had to lean in to hear me. "After calling me a delusional bitch and throwing everything I ever trusted your sorry ass with back in my face…now you believe me?"

He nodded solemnly. "After what I saw last night, I know there's no other explanation."

Sam apparently couldn't control his curious hunter side and asked, "What happened, exactly?"

Beau looked up at the tall, rather burly looking man standing behind me. After taking a deep breath, he started to explain.

"Well, what you have to understand is, Tanya and I…well, we have a lot of, um, different interests when it comes to…"

They like the kinky stuff," I interjected, then added – at Sam's look of revulsion "Not that I would know first hand, of course. It's a small southern town," I shrugged. "People talk."

"Anyways," Beau, sent me a scathing look; I knew he didn't like to be interrupted. "so the two of us were on the bed and I was tied up." Sam, Dean, and I all cringed at the mental image. "Tanya was on top of me doing her, uh, thing and then suddenly, she's gone."

"Gone where?" Dean piped up, scooting further up in his chair.

"She was stuck up against the wall, just dangling there a good three feet off the ground. Of course she was screaming bloody murder at me, telling me to get her down, but I couldn't," he smirked at the boys. "She is one hell of a knot tier."

"So what happened?" I asked. "Is Tanya okay?"

"Well, whatever it was tore her up pretty good. There were these long gashes in her back and on the backs of her legs and she was bleeding quite a bit. But whatever it was dropped her after just a couple of minutes. She came and untied me and we got dressed and got the hell out of there."

"Okay," I mulled over everything he'd said. "Where was it yall moved to?"

"The old Reeves house."

"The what?" I shouted, finding myself on my feet and inches away from his face. He leaned back in surprise and thrust his hands out in front of him for protection. A gusty wind blew in through the broken down door and swept through the room, knocking down pots, pans, and all other sorts of kitchen goods.

"Emma?" Sam said, hesitantly, making me look up at him. He gasped. "Oh my God, your eyes."

But I already knew what they must have looked like. I thought back to the night before and saw the first eye again in my mind: all gray steel. I turned back to Beau and registered the pure horror on his features. I took a few deep breaths and back away from him slowly, closing my eyes as I willed them to change back to their normal hue. Once I had finally calmed down, I opened my eyes again and glared at Beau.

"I told you that place was dangerous."

They all heard the true anger in my voice. Sure, I'd been pissed as hell at Beau when he tried to get with Rose, but this…this was an all new low for him.

"Emma, I-"

"I told you to never go in there ever again. And look what you did, you slimy son of a bitch, you went and bought the fucking place! How could you? After what happened there…after I warned you…"

He hung his head. "I know I messed up big time, Em. But Tanya loves that place, I couldn't just say no to her."

"Yes you could have," I started, my voice rising in volume. "All you had to do was say, 'No, babe, its not safe, but I'll find you another house, honest', just like you always do, Beau."

"I'm serious, I couldn't say no. I have no idea why, but I was uncapable."

"You mean incapable?" Sam said.

"Yeah that one."

I sighed again.

"Look, Emma, if you do this for me I swear I'll never darken your doorstep again. I just…I really need you. I don't know what to do."

It took me a minute to decide what I would do; I was actually considering just letting Dumb and Dumbette suffer.

"Fine," I finally said. "I'll help you, but there's one condition." I turned to the Winchesters. "I've dealt with this house before and I know I cant take this on without yalls help. From what I hear, the two of you have a pretty good record when it comes to this type of stuff. So what do you say?"

The boys exchanged a look. Dean nodded and Sam smiled.

"Sure," he said. "We'll help you."

"Great," I smiled a genuine smile, a first for the last few months. "Let's get ready then, its time to go catch ourselves a haint."


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Still trying not to be pushy…but I kind of need reviews!

Chapter 7

"Wait a minute," Dean called, standing and following me through the door that led back into the lobby. "What the hell is a haint?"

"Aint you ever heard of a haint before?" Beau asked.

"No," Dean said, clearly upset by the fact that Beau knew something about the supernatural that he didn't.

"Its just an old southern name for a ghost," I said, turning back to the task at hand. "So, we're gonna need quite a bit of salt – I think I'm out from my last one – and a good exorcism."

"Wait, we can't just go barging in there without knowing what we're up against, without research, a plan," Sam said quickly.

Beau and I shared a look. "Oh, we know what we're up against," I replied after a brief pause. "But you're right, we do need a plan."

"Damn straight, we do." Dean muttered.

His assessment gave me an idea. "Hold on for a second, yall. I gotta make a phone call."

We sent Beau on his way (thank God!) and went to Sam and Dean's room to discuss the history of this particular haunt.

"So what is it we're dealing with here?" Dean asked, ever the impatient one. "A vengeful spirit, obviously, but is it a woman in white? Or maybe a-"

"Just shut up and listen," I interrupted, earning a pissed off look from Dean and a small grin from Sam. We didn't have time to waste. "The Reeves house was built in 1806 by Ezra Reeves and his young bride, Clara. Ezra was nearly 20 years older than her, so we think it's safe to say that she didn't have much of a choice when it came to marrying him. So, she got married when she was 16, and then got pregnant the following year.

"She had twins, a little boy and a little girl, but the pregnancy was hard on her and she died a couple days after they were born. The weird thing was, not even a full month after her death, Ezra had remarried. His new wife was Ms. Virginia Harrington, Clara's older sister."

Sam's eyebrows shot up into his bangs, disappearing altogether, while Dean just grimaced.

"Now, most historians believe that Clara and Virginia's parents were quite poor and received a large payment from Ezra for both of their daughters. But I know otherwise: they were in debt to him. Apparently, in the early days of their marriage, Mr. Harrington had gambled away the majority of their money. Ezra was happy to loan them some, but they never paid him back, so he changed the payment to make one of their daughters his wife.

"Now, to put it simply, he was a horrible man: he beat Clara and Virginia, raped them, made them live in terror during their respective marriages. But after Clara died and he married her sister, he started to go even crazier. Clara's spirit stuck around and scared the shit out of him, so bad that one day he mistook Virginia for her and ran her through with an old sword. Soon after, he had two pissed off she-ghosts on his tail.

"Needless to say, the old man was scared, so he brought in a Choctaw medicine man to rid his house of the spirits, but he wasn't any ordinary medicine man. He was, what we call around these parts, a Spirit Talker.

"These Spirit Talkers not only communicate with ghosts, but they give them substance, the ability to touch things, pick them up, or, in this case, get revenge on Ezra Reeves. We'll skip through the gory details, and just go with him dying with a multitude of sharp, pointy objects poking out from him. Anyways, apparently he couldn't pass on and kept the girls from passing on, so now the three of them haunt that house and wage a pretty epic battle against each other all the time."

"Well, what are we supposed to do about it?" Sam asked. "I mean, if this has been going on for two hundred years, people are bound to have tried to fix it before." 

"Yeah," Dean said, catching Sam's drift. "If they couldn't fix it, who says we can?"

"I say we can," a sure voice from behind us announced. The boys whipped their heads around in surprise, but I already knew who was there.

"Heya, Jo." I stood and walked over to her and gave her a hug which she returned cheerfully. We broke apart and the smile slid from her face.

"Well, well, well," she smirked, crossing her arms over her chest and giving the boys an expectant look. "If it isn't Sam and Dean Winchester. Long time no see, boys."

"Jo," Sam nodded in greeting.

Dean was silent, sitting there just staring at her.

"Well hell, aren't you going to say 'hi', at least?" she demanded, eyes widening in annoyance.

Dean was quiet for a couple more seconds before finally speaking up.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

We all jumped at his outburst; of all the things I'd expected Dean to say to Jo, that hadn't really even been in the top 10. To her credit, Jo kept her face impassive, while Sam and I still looked startled.

"I was already in town, so when Emma called me-"

"You invited her?" he shouted, jumping up from the bed and coming to a stop right in front of me, his index finger just inches from my nose.

"Now, Dean, if I was you I wouldn't stick my finger-"

"Shut up, Jo!"

She backed down with, "Just warning you. Good luck."

He took a step closer to me. "Why the hell did you feel the need to bring her into this?"

"Don't put your finger in my face," was my answer. I kept my face cold and expressionless.

"I'm serious, Emma. Why would you pull her into this?"

"I'm serious too, Dean. Now get that sausage finger out of my face."

"No, I'll put it where I want to…wait, I don't have sausage fingers!"

"I'm gonna count to three," I said. "One…" His finger didn't move. "Two…" His resolve seemed to waver for half a second, but he held strong. "Three."

I distracted him with my right hand, pretending to come in for a quick hook, knowing that he would just block it. Simultaneously, my left hand came up from the other side, grabbed his finger, and twisted. He yowled in pain and sunk to his knees.

"Holy shit! Get her off, dammit, get her off!"

Sam, shaking with silent laughter on the bed, simply said, "They warned you, man. You had it coming."

"Now, come one, Dean," Jo said sweetly. "Where are your manners? Maybe if you ask her nicely she'll let you go."

Dean seemed to consider it for a moment before finally giving in.

"Okay, please, please let go of my finger. Please!"

"See," I smiled as I let him go. He rolled over onto his back on the floor and cradled his finger to his chest. "It wasn't all that hard, was it?"

He glared at me for a second, then straightened up, pouting. Sam just shook his head, still laughing.

Fifteen minutes later, we were back in my kitchen – damn, I need to get that door fixed – discussing the house. Jo had already been filled in on the history of the place; hell, all the times she visited me, she had to know the story as well as I did. She, Sam, and Dean sat at the table with a buttload of local maps, old pictures, articles, and blueprints of the house spread in front of them.

"Wow, Emma," Sam said, sounding surprised. "You sure know a lot about this place."

I shrugged as well as I could when I was up to my elbows in cookie dough. "There have been so many accidents in and around that place ever since I can remember, so I've always found the place to be interesting." I paused for a moment while I rolled the dough out. "You know, I've been waiting years to exorcise this place."

Jo nodded knowingly. Sam glanced between the two of us, confusion on his features.

"Why?"

I sighed; I hated telling this story.

"Do you see an article, dated Friday, January 13, 1995?"

He searched around on the table for a second before unearthing an old newspaper article. He read over it, then turned to me, eyes wide.

"That's why."


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Okay, if I don't get some reviews within the next 48 hours, I see no reason to continue this story. I know I sound like a brat, but I really need some feedback!

Chapter 8

"What?" Dean asked, noting Sam's reaction. "What is it?"

Sam passed him the article silently, all the while keeping his eyes locked on mine.

_Friday, January 13, 1995_

_One local child was killed early this morning at The Reeves Home (2882 North Jackson Street) after spending the night there with some friends. The rumors of the house being haunted by its founding family have run rampant for years now, prompting a number of "incidnets"; local children and teenagers have been known to break into the house late at night on a dare. _

_According to the Sheriff's department, five children (who, as minors, shall remain nameless) snuck into the house around 11:00 pm Thursday, January 14__th__. One of those children was David Lee Harper, age 10. Around midnight, Harper was found dead in the middle of the parlor. _

_The report from the Coroners office has yet to be released to the public. _

"So, you were one of those five children," Dean said. It wasn't a question, just a statement.

I nodded. "But I was the one who planned it all. I'd heard my mom talking to her sister over in Birmingham about the house, how they had to figure out how to stop something that was in it. But when I asked her what she was talking about, she just told me to forget about it, that it wasn't important. So, of course I couldn't forget about it," I shrugged and Jo patted me on the back. She knew this was always hard on me, how much I regretted everything that happened. "I told some of my friends about how I wanted to go to the house, see what it was like, what my momma had really been talking to Aunt Kathy about.

"There were only supposed to have been three of us going, my friends Georgia Carter, Becca Linton, and Dona Harper, David's sister. We all met outside of Dona's house, but David and his friend Johnny Ray were there and insisted on coming too. So we all walked down to Jackson Street and to the Reeves House. At first, the place seemed normal, but after a while, it was obvious that something there wasn't right. All of the mirrors were broken, none of the lights worked, doors would open and close all on their own. We pretty much stayed in the foyer, right next to the front door. But David got bored after a while and decided to head off on his own. He went into the parlor…" I paused, rolling the final piece of cookie dough into a ball and placing it on the tray. "He went into the parlor just before the old grandfather clock there struck midnight. The moment the clock hit those first notes, he screamed and we all bolted out the door. When he didn't come out, we went to the 24 hour gas station down the street and called the police.

"Turned out he was stabbed repeatedly and bled out before the ambulance got there. It was so horrible; the deputies took each of us home one at a time and were ordered to search all of our houses for murder weapons." Sam and Dean looked up at me in surprise. "Yeah, they thought we had killed him. But of course they didn't find anything, so his death's been listed as an accident ever since."

"We'll fix this, Emma," Sam said gently, standing and walking to where I stood. He put a hand on my shoulder and, though my back was to him, I could sense his pitying look. I took a deep breath and turned. Jo and Dean were seated at the table, watching us silently.

"God, I hope we can" I muttered, turning away from him once more to pick up the tray and make my way across the room to the oven. I slid the tray in and punched a couple of buttons. I must have stood there a good 30 seconds, just looking into the oven with Sam behind me until he finally spoke up again.

"Come here."

He spun me around to face him and enveloped me in his warm embrace. I only came up to the middle of his chest, so I buried my face into his hard muscles, finally letting my tears free. He caressed my hair, rubbed my back, whispered words of encouragement, hope.

Telling me everything would be okay.

After the little 'incident' in the kitchen, I could barely look Sam in the eye anymore; to say that I was embarrassed as hell was the understatement of the century.

Sam seemed kind of uncomfortable, too. After I had cried myself dry, the four of us sat down to come up with a plan of attack. Four beers, a batch of cookies, innumerable arguments, and one bloody nose later, we were set.

"Dammit, Jo," Dean growled, nursing his swollen nose. "I was just making a suggestion."

"Sorry, but 'Why don't you ladies stay here and make us victory sandwiches' isn't a suggestion, you bigot."

"Yeah, well you didn't have to punch in the nose for it."

"Yeah, actually I did."

"I swear-"

"Shut up!" Sam and I roared simultaneously. We made eye contact for the briefest of moments, then averted our gazes quickly.

Sam recovered first. "Lets just get everything together. We can end this tonight."

Jo and Dean nodded, then went their separate ways. Then it was just me and Sam.

Okay, so what you have to understand about me is that I am a very rational, reasonable individual. I normally accept the truth, no matter how much I don't like it. I've been through my hard times, just like everyone else, and I've dealt with them all realistically.

So when I was standing there, alone with Sam, I took my normal route and looked at the situation sensibly: he was really good looking, a truly sweet guy, and, apparently, one hell of a hunter. I was attracted to him on more levels than one; he had smarts – I mean, damn, he'd gone to Stanford – but didn't let them rule over his emotions.

That's when I realized something that I really didn't want to realize: I liked him. A lot. A whole lot.

But, like I said, I'm just a rational person. So I knew no matter how much I liked him, I had to put my feelings aside. Everyone knows, when you are in our line of work, love is just a weakness. Demons will hunt down anyone you care for and use them to get to you.

I'd lost my parents that way and I couldn't go through it again.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Thank you for the reviews! That was all I needed, just to know for a fact that someone was reading what I wrote. So, thank you so much!

Chapter 9

After waking Tucker up – good lord, that boy could sleep through a hurricane – and taking him over to his friends house to stay for the next couple of days, we loaded up everything we could possibly need and set off.

The ride to the house was pretty quiet and relatively short; Dean drove while Sam rode shotgun, with Jo and myself in the back (something that Jo wasn't exactly thrilled about at first, but got over quickly). When we finally reached the house it was just starting to get dark.

"What time is it?" Jo asked, gazing skyward.

"About 8:45," I told her. "Gotta love the summertime. I hate how it gets dark around 5 in the afternoon in the winter."

She nodded in agreement as we helped the boys unload. After we had everything situated on the porch steps right outside the front door, we were faced with a new challenge.

"How do we get in?" I tried the doorknob, but it wouldn't budge. "I mean, this is a very historical building; someone's bound to notice if we just bust the door down."

"Leave it to me," Sam said, grinning almost evilly as he took a couple of tools out of his bag. Not half a minute later, the door opened with a soft creak.

"Nice work, Sammy," I said, patting him on the back as he straightened up. Dean's eyes flitted between the two of us almost like he was waiting for something, but all Sam did was smile back almost shyly and say, "Thanks".

Jo and Dean shared a look, apparently thinking that I wouldn't notice, and I resolved to ask her about it later.

"So," Sam walked in through the front door, flashlight at the ready, then turned and glanced back at the rest of us. "This is where it all went down, huh?"

I nodded. "This is the foyer." I point through an open archway to the left. "Through there's the parlor."

"And that's where Ezra, Virginia, and your friend died, right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, that's the place."

"Then that's where we'll start." He tried to give me an encouraging, confident smile, but it fell sort of flat. He knew that this would be a hard night for all of us, but me especially.

Three hours later, we were all starting to get a little antsy. It hadn't taken us long to set up in the parlor – circles of salt and brick dust aren't that hard to make - so we just sat there, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking. But within the past half an hour, Dean had begun to complain about everything…loudly.

"Emma, why'd you wear something like that to hunt in?" he asked, eyeing me up and down.

"What's wrong with my clothes?" I was confused; I'd always hunted in shorts, a t-shirt, and converses.

"Well, I mean, they're not exactly practical, especially-"

"Look," Jo cut in, shooting him a dangerous glare. "Just because you have about as much manners as you have balls doesn't mean you can criticize her clothing choices."

"Wow, Jo, I didn't realize it was your time of the month again."

"Really? That's weird, I thought we were on the same cycle."

"Oh, you little bi-"

Dean was interrupted by the loud clanging of the old grandfather clock in the parlor.

It was midnight.

The silence was deafening; I guess when you are expecting some great cacophony, anything different is blaringly loud in its place. But the quiet only lasted a few seconds.

With a collective bang, all of the doors surrounding us (including the front door, unfortunately) slammed shut, then clicked as they were locked. Jo and I, already seated in the middle of a salt and brick dust circle, had to move out from the middle quickly to accommodate for Sam and Dean as they rushed in.

"Well, this is just great," Dean griped.

His continuous annoying chatter, paired with the repeat of what happened to us that night so many years ago, pissed me off to no end. A wind began to blow through the room, pushing my hair into my face and mouth.

"For fuck's sake, cant you just shut up for one god dammed minute?" I shrieked, feeling my hands begin to tingle like they always did when I got really upset.

Dean swallowed. "Emma, your eyes…"

"I don't care about my fu-"

I cut off as a bloodcurdling scream tore through my lips. I was suddenly on my stomach, being dragged backwards through a large gap in the circle.

"Emma!" Sam shouted, lunging towards me, but I was out of reach. I felt fingernails breaking as I clawed at the floor, trying to at least slow down.

And then I was in the parlor and that loud silence had come back again, broken only by my wild gasping and the other's deep breathing.

"Start the exorcism," I whispered.

I heard the rustling of papers and then Jo's sure voice speaking the Latin confidently. I tried to turn to glance up at her, but it was like I had been bound by some sort on invisible ropes: I couldn't move a centimeter.

"Sam?" I breathed, trying to hold back my tears. "Sam, I cant move."

I heard his heavy footfalls and then a grunt and a crash.

"Dammit, I cant get to you."

There were more footsteps and then another crash.

"Me neither," Dean said.

Jo's voice began to rise in volume and I felt some of the pressure lifted off of me. I still couldn't move, but I didn't feel quite as confined. The wind had picked up, if it was at all possible.

And then all of a sudden the steady stream of Latin ended and Jo yelped. I could hear the boys jumping after her as they had me, but all too soon she was laying on my right.

"Well, shit," she gasped out.

Sam had starting reading the exorcism, the ancient language flowing rather beautifully from his lips. But, of course, that moment of almost calm couldn't last.

"What the fuck?" Dean bellowed as he too was dragged to my other side. "Sammy, you gotta get us out of here!"

"I'm trying, Dean!" Sam retaliated.

And then the wind stopped, Sam's Latin ceased, and two figures floated into the room. They were both young women who, honestly, didn't look much older than Jo and I – hell, they looked maybe even younger than us. Their period clothing looked ratty and tattered, hanging on them in shreds. One, who must have been Virginia considering she had a large black bloodstain on her abdomen, made her way over to Jo.

"Get the hell away from me!" She shouted, trying to turn her head to the side.

But it did absolutely no good; the young woman simply stood in front of Jo, then laid down on top of her, sinking into her body. Dean groaned in anger and fear.

Then the other ghost came up to me. Her face expressionless, she dropped into me.

I felt her icy coldness seeping through my muscles, bones and into the absolute core of my body. Our consciousnesses merged as one: she was I and I was she.

Jo was standing stiffly, looking down at us. She thrust her hand forward and ours shot up to meet it. With a yank, she had us on our feet. Clara and I turned to face Dean, who was staring up at us in pure horror.

Jo walked over to the mantle and pulled down a dusty old saber.

"Do not be afraid, Dean," Clara and I said. And angry noise from behind us made us turn around. "You too, Samuel. There is nothing to fear. But just in case," my hand rose and the front door flew open. "I think it is time for you to leave."

We had to admit, Sam was very strong; we'd never seen someone hold out for so long when we wanted them out. But he was soon sprawled out on the porch, the door shut and locked behind him.

"Let me go you dead bitches," Dean growled, eyeing the saber.

"We do apologize," Jo said with Virginia's thick accent seeping through, just as we remembered it. "But this is just the way things have to be." She turned towards us and smiled. "He'll be here in a moment, I can hear him." We nodded before grabbing our own sword from above the fireplace.

Sam was pounding on the door; I wanted to open it and let him in, but she wouldn't let me. Our hand waved through the air in the direction of the door in a dance-like manner and then it was quiet again. We glanced out the window and saw Sam passed out on the porch.

Jo nodded to us, so we went to hide behind one of the large, wing backed chairs. Not three seconds later, Ezra came into the parlor; he was just as ugly as we had remembered and we had to take a deep breath to compose ourself. Seeing Dean lying on the floor, Ezra dived into him, just like always.

Dean made it to his feet, then turned to face the rest of the room.

"Come on out, you two," he said loudly, turning to speak to every corner of the parlor. "Let us get this continuous nightmare over with for tonight."

Jo began to sneak up behind him, saber pointed straight at the middle of his back. But this wasn't what I wanted. Sure, Dean pissed me off, but he couldn't die. Clara reigned me back in. We had to do it, we had to make Ezra pay for what he had done to us. I tried to pull away; Ezra hadn't done anything to me, it was them, the sisters, that he had hurt...he hadn't hurt me.

"No!" I – not we – cried, springing out from behind the chair and pass Dean. I felt Clara leave me as I pushed her out, leaving a swirling white mist in my wake. I tackled Jo to the ground, wrestling the saber from her hands. She slapped at me, but I straddled her, pinning her arms to her sides with my knees, and grabbing her face with my hands, making her look at me.

"Fight it, Jo," I demanded. "This isn't you! You don't wanna kill Dean!"

She struggled for the longest time, but finally went limp. Her eyes opened wide and she shouted out, the mist being expelled from her body.

She took a couple deep breaths, then shifted under my weight. "Get off me, Em."

I smiled and helped her up. We turned to face Dean, but he was gone.

"Shit," she muttered, then grabbed my arm. "Okay, you go outside and get Sam. I'll go find Dean, or Ezra, or whoever the hell he is."

I nodded, then raced to the front door. I jiggled the lock and, after a couple of tries, I was able to open the door. Sam was laying on his stomach, face turned to the side. I stepped over to him and kneeled next to his torso.

"Come on, Sammy," I grunted, trying to roll him onto his back. "Wake up, dammit."

Once I finally got him on his back, I was able to lean over him. Not sure what to do, I prodded him in the chest a couple of times to which, of course, he didn't respond.

I thought about it real hard for a second, then got an idea. "Well, Sleeping Beauty, here goes nothing."

And I slapped him.

His eyes opened almost immediately. Groaning, he reached up and felt at the back of his head.

"God, that hurt," he murmured.

"Sam, you gotta get up," I said, speaking quickly. "Dean's still possessed or whatever, and Jo's up there trying to find him."

He nodded and stood, only a little unsteady. "Alright, let's go."


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Thanks for the reviews! So, hopefully, I'll work on making longer chapters : )

Chapter 10

I raced through the front door and up the main staircase with Sam hot on my heels. We were no more than halfway up the stairs when we heard a gut wrenching shriek. I pushed myself to go faster, for Jo's sake.

At the top of the stairs was a long hallway, stretching from left to right. An ominous silence had settled over the house. Sam gestured at me to go left, so I nodded and started opening the doors on my side and searching through the rooms beyond. There had to have been a good dozen of them, but it wasn't until the very last door (of course) that I actually found what I was looking for.

Dean – or, Ezra, I should say – had Jo pressed up against the wall opposite of the door. He was shirtless and, though it really was a life or death situation, a small part of my brain sure appreciated that. But when I caught sight of Jo's tank top, ripped right down the middle with a nondescript flesh colored bra showing, all thoughts of sexy backs left my mind.

Before I could so much as shout out for Sam, Jo had been knocked unconscious against the wall and Dean was about a hairsbreadth away from me. I turned to run through the open door, but was yanked back when Dean caught a hold of my hair. He pulled me against his chest, and then up until I was on my toes, my nose just brushing his chin.

"Well, I should be thanking you, miss, for getting those two broads off my back," he breathed, inclining his head slightly so our noses touched. "But you see, I can only think of one way to do that. Or rather," he chuckled quietly, "this body can only think of one way."

He released my hair, but gripped my upper arm tightly as his other hand slid up over the curve of my hip, under my shirt, and came to rest on my waist. He leaned down even further and forced his mouth onto mine.

But I can't really say how the kiss was because A) I wasn't doing any of the work – trust me, if the brother of the guy you're falling for is possessed and starts trying to make out with you, you wont reciprocate anything - B) all I was really aware of was his tongue practically choking me and C) Sam chose that exact moment to make his appearance.

He was really pretty discrete, to be honest; all he had to do was cock the gun and Dean pulled his mouth away from mine and glared over at the doorway.

"Hello there, Samuel." He smiled devilishly and gripped me tighter. "Your brother apologizes for kissing Miss Emma before you, but you know the saying: you snooze you lose."

"Push him out, Dean," Sam said powerfully, ignoring the ghosts jibes, though I couldn't help but notice the slight blush that rose to his tanned cheeks.

"No, I don think I'll be leaving anytime soon," Dean cooed. "I happen to like this body. I wasn't ever this strong in my life."

But Sam persisted. "Dean, I know you're in there somewhere. He's using you to hurt Emma. You have to push him out."

Dean just rolled his eyes and let go of my arm. He pulled me tighter against his side (if that was possible) and pushed his palm out towards Sam. Sam flew a good foot in the air, then hit the wall with a thud.

Dean smirked over at him, then dipped his head down to mine, claiming my lips once more.

"Just let her go, dammit!" Sam finally burst, his calm façade vanishing. "Leave her the hell alone!"

Dean didn't listen; he just kept his lips locked on mine.

I was getting pretty damn tired of this ghost using Dean to mack on me. So I did the only thing I really could do in the situation.

I bit his tongue.

With a muffle shout, Dean shoved me away from him, blood dripping down the corner of his mouth. He lost his concentration and Sam fell into a crumpled heap on the dusty floor. It took him a minute, but he was able to shake it off and make it over to my side by the time Dean recovered.

"That wasn't a very smart move," he drawled, wiping at his mouth.

"Neither was sticking that tongue down my throat, dipshit," I shot back.

He pulled his mouth into a menacing snarl and lunged for me. Sam met him mid jump and tackled him to the floor, pinning his arms down much like I had Jo's.

I bent over his face. "Dean, get rid of him dammit! If you don't, he's gonna be inside you forever. Do you want that? Having to do what someone else wants, all the time?"

"Yeah," Sam added, catching my drift. "You wont be able to control yourself. You'll be his puppet for the rest of your life."

"No," Dean groaned, his head shaking from side to side. "No…stop it…don't…don't you dare…"

Dean jerked, almost unseating Sam, and coughed the mist out of his mouth. Sam backed off of him and pulled me behind him, out of Dean's reach. It took the elder Winchester a minute or two to compose himself, but once he was okay, he smiled up at Sam.

"Damn, brother, that girl is one hell of a kisser."

* * *

"So, that little trip proved to be a lost cause," Jo scowled as Dean helped her into the backseat. The back of her head obviously hurt like hell; the pain made her a bit bitchy sometimes.

"Not completely," Sam said, smiling ruefully. "Now we know that we have no other choice: we have to slat and burn the bones."

"What?" Dean shouted into the night. He hushed him and he lowered his voice. "Are you telling me that you were being all moral about the life of ghosts? Their dead, dammit! We should have just torched the bones and not even come here tonight." He sent a fleeting look at Jo, curled up in the backseat and, after a moment of hesitation, tossed Sam the keys. "You drive." He slid into my seat in the back and put an arm around Jo.

"Umm, shotgun?"

Sam laughed good naturedly at my belatedness before opening the door for me and going around to the other side of the car.

Once he got the engine purring and I had given him directions to the old cemetery where the entire family was buried, he asked, "So, was Dean as good of a kisser as you apparently are?"

I blushed and looked down. "I wouldn't really know, seeing how he had his tongue buried halfway down my windpipe. I pretty much just stood there."

He nodded and we lapsed into silence.

About fifteen minutes later, we were still a few miles away from the graveyard. I could feel my eyelids growing heavy. I heard a soft snore from the backseat and turned around.

"Aw," I chuckled.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Those two are just being adorable. Hey hand me your phone for a second." He dug in his pocket, pulled it out, and handed it over to me. I took a couple different pictures (there were a few good angles) and gave him his phone back.

I could see the side of his face crinkle up into that charming smile of his. "So, what exactly was that about?"

"The two lovebirds are asleep back there, all over each other. Man," I laughed a little. "I really hope Jo gets up first and gives Dean the wake up call of a lifetime."

Sam joined in. "Oh yeah, that's just what he needs, too."

For the next several miles, Sam and I whispered in amiable conversation. We talked about our childhoods, college days, and everything in between.

"Wow," he breathed, his eyes moving from the road to my face then back again. "I never would have pegged you for a Columbia girl."

I nodded. "Yeah, that's probably why I didn't stay long. As much as I like New York City, the natives didn't like me all that much."

"Eh, it happens. But 'man is not made for defeat'."

"Did you just quote Hemingway?"

He turned to me again, but this time his eyes didn't rove over me, they stared straight into mine. "Yeah, I did. You know Hemingway?"

"Of course!" I couldn't help but smile. "Possibly one of the best authors of American literature if you ask me."

He turned back to the road, an incredulous little smile on his face, and put on the brakes. "We're here."

Jo and Dean still weren't up yet, but Sam and I didn't mind. We walked around to the back of the Impala and Sam went to get the shovels out of the trunk.

"What are you doing?" I asked him, genuinely confused.

"Well, we've got three graves to dig up-"

"Who said anything about digging?" He glanced up at me and his eyes widened for a second. I pointed to myself in mock authority. "Elemental, remember?"

His only response was a polite, "Alright, then, lead the way."

I turned away from the car and started walking, Sam stepping up beside me.

"So," he hesitated. " You're going to do a little demonstration?"

I nodded. "Yeah, its not that big of a deal. It'll be just like that pit I tossed you into," we shared a small smile before turning away. "Well, you know, except for the coffins in the bottom."

We reached the graves surprisingly quickly. Seeing as we were far out into the countryside, I knew there was no chance of us being caught.

"Stand back," I warned Sam. "This could get a little messy."

He stepped behind me, peering over my head (lucky tall people) as I took a deep breath and turned my hands palms down in front of the first grave, Clara's. The ground shook a little as I pulled six feet of dirt up from the ground. After doing the same with the other two graves, I turned to Sam.

"Would you mind salting them for me?"

He stared into my eyes for a moment, almost as if he was trying to memorize them, then nodded and saturated the graves with salt. He moved beside me.

"Now," I glanced up at him. "This could go one of two way: either the graves will burn like they're supposed to, or they'll kind of explode." His eyes opened wide in alarm and I gave him a sheepish smile. "Just a warning."

Then I turned and did a complicate little twirl of my wrist. Within a matter of seconds, there were orangey-yellow flames licking up the sides of the holes in the ground. Sam looked down at me and into my eyes, doing that weird, examining thing again.

He looked back at the graves. "This is amazing."

I just shrugged. "Eh, I guess so…sometimes."

"You really don't realize how…how special you are, do you?"

"Define special," I smirked.

He laughed under his breath, eyeing the ground. He opened his mouth to respond, but right then Dean and Jo came traipsing up.

"What the hell, Sammy? Did you just forget about us or something?"

"No," he grinned. "We just couldn't bear to wake the two of you up when you were being so adorable."

"Adorable my ass," Jo grimaced, elbowing Dean in the ribs. "You need to learn how to keep your hands to yourself mister."

"Me? I wasn't the one practically sitting in someone's lap."

"You got a freaking boner!"

"You were sitting on a very important piece of equipment!"

"Oh please…"

They bickered on and on walking back to the car. Sam and I followed in their wake, his hand pressing reassuringly against the small of my back.


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Please, do keep reviewing! It makes me so happy!

Chapter 11

I had never truly appreciated how comfortable my bed was until that night.

"Oh thank God," she said loudly, stumbling towards Tucker's mattress. She flopped down on it, face first and all I could hear was a muffled, "oohhh, bed".

I chuckled at her antics before walking into the bathroom. Turning the shower on, I hummed to myself and started to peel the clothes off of my body. I hissed in pain when I lifted my t-shirt and glanced down at my ribcage; there was a long slash, from about the underside of my left breast to right above my bellybutton, that had bled so much, my shirt stuck into the wound. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and yanked.

I winced, but the worst was over. I took the rest of my clothes off (thankfully not finding anymore major booboos) and stepped into the steaming shower. I washed away the dirt, grime, and dust from our little adventure, sure to be careful around the gash on my abdomen. I ran through the events of the night and finally figured that it had to have happened when I tackled Jo to the ground; she must have nicked me with the saber in the process. I glared down at it – it would definitely need stitches.

After getting out of the shower, changing into my most comfortable pair of pajamas, and towel drying my hair, I went into the bed room to get Jo to help stitch me up. Naturally, she was sound asleep, still in her hunting clothes and everything.

I made a split second decision: if Sam or Dean were up, one of them would help me. I gathered up my needle, thread, and bottle of Jack then made my way to their room. When I got outside their door I hesitated, but the dull throbbing from my wound pushed me to knock on the door.

It took a minute, but a surprisingly bright eyed Sam opened the door for me.

"Hey, Emma. What's up?"

"Could you help me stitch something up? Jo nicked me when that ghost was controlling her."

"Sure thing," he held the door open wider. "You'll just have to ignore Dean. He snores pretty loud, but he's one hell of a heavy sleeper."

I followed him into the room. His laptop was on a small table by a window, an e-mail account open. Sam led over to what I assumed was his bed, seeing how the other was occupied by a snoring, shirtless Dean.

"I, um, guess you can just lay down there," he knelt beside the bed while I climbed on top of it and pulled out a small flashlight. I gave him the needle, thread, and Jack after guzzling nearly half of it. I made a face at the taste and burn, to which he let out a small laugh. "Careful tiger," he joked. "We're gonna need some of that to numb you up on the outside."

I stuck my tongue out at him playfully then lifted my tank top up to reveal the gash.

"Holy shit," he gasped, staring unabashedly at my stomach. He probed the cut and scrunched his face up a little when it started to bleed again. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom and dabbed the whiskey on the wound with it gently. I sucked in a breath as the sting of the alcohol hit me hard. Sam moved up to the head of the bed and brushed my still damp hair out of my face.

"It's okay," he murmured softly. "It'll be over soon."

He slid back down to my torso and began to thread the needle through my skin. Fourteen sets of painful piercings later, he had me all set. I was still panting a little from the ache, but Sam knew just how to sooth me. He crawled up next to me in the bed and just held me to his chest, rubbing my arm comfortingly. After a while he started to stroke my hair, then my waist, then my hip. His eyes closed in contentment and he fell into dreamland.

I was started to doze, but shook myself awake: there was no way that I was gonna sleep with Sam (not like that!) with his brother in the same room; it just wasn't ladylike. So, careful not to wake Sam, I snuck back out into the hallway and walked back to my own room.

Jo was still out, thank God, so I crawled straight into bed without any interruptions. My head hit the pillow and I was asleep within a matter of seconds.

* * *

"Good morning, ladies!" an ungodly cheerful voice called out into the bedroom. I opened my eyes, and there was Dean; but he wasn't looking at me.

"Get the hell out of here, Winchester!" Jo shouted, pistol pointed straight at his heart.

"God, I'm going, I'm going. There's no need to pull a gun on me."

"You better be you little shit-"

"Emma?" Sam burst into the room, still in the same clothes I had left him in last night. His eyes were droopy with tiredness and his dark hair tussled. "Oh God, it scared the shit out of me when I woke up and you weren't there."

Dean and Jo shot me a questioning glance, but I ignored them. "You fell asleep and I starting to join you, so I got up and went to my own bed."

"Oh," he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and became more lucid. A soft flush began to spread on his cheeks: he was embarrassed. "Oh, yeah, makes sense. I just…I was worried about you, is all."

"Thanks," I said and smiled.

"Okay," Dean's eyebrows rose just shy of his hairline. "Well, it's nearly noon and I'm starving. So, you all get ready and we're going out for breakfast."

"No, Dean, it's okay," I insisted. "I'll whip up some eggs and pancakes. Just give me a couple of minutes."

"Sounds great!" he grinned from ear to ear childishly. "See you in a few." He sauntered out of the room after a last glare at Jo, who had put the gun away. She flipped him off when his back was turned, then looked at me.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, be back in a few."

She left and then it was just Sam and me. He sat down on Jo's unmade bed, facing me.

"So, I guess yall will be headin out soon?"

He stared down at his sock-covered feet. "Actually, Dean and I had a little chat about that last night. We haven't found another case yet, and Dean likes it here," he broke off mid sentence and brought his eyes to mine. "And I do too. I really like it here."

"Are yall gonna stay?" I felt my entire face light up. Sam and Dean weren't exactly family, but I had grown to like the boys…in different way, of course. Dean was kind of like that annoying older cousin that you love to hate, while Sam was that cute, brainy guy next door. In other words, one was off limits and the other, well, not so much.

He smiled – a genuine, 'I am truly happy' smile – and nodded.

I don't know what came over me; I launched off of my bed and into his arms. Since I was still under the covers when I threw myself at him, we got tangled up pretty quickly. I just hugged his around the neck like a small child with a teddy-bear. His arms were around my waist, large hands splayed against the small of my back. I loved feeling the heat of them radiate through my shirt and onto my skin.

We just sat there and laughed for a couple of minutes, until he pulled back from me and kissed me on the forehead.

Which was pretty damn unexpected. And surprisingly hot.

I was just about to kiss him square on the mouth when Dean walked in.

"Hey, are we gonna have some breakfast or what?"

* * *

"Okay, so what are we gonna do today?" I asked the boys and Jo as they finished devouring the last of the pancakes.

Sam and Dean both shrugged, still focused on their breakfast, but Jo perked up. "Let's go to New Orleans."

"Huh?" Sam, Dean, and I said in unison.

"New Orleans," Jo persisted. "In Louisiana? Oh come on, it'll be fun."

"It's about a three hour drive," I reminded her.

"So? We can stay there a couple nights, enjoy the bars, investigate a couple questionable homicides-"

"Jo, what have you been up to?" Dean gave her an expectant glare and she sighed.

"Mom called while I was in the shower and left a message. Apparently, there's been two murders in the past two days and mom suspects hoodoo. She wants us to check it out and see if we can find anything."

It was quite for a moment.

"Well, I'm in." The three of them all looked over at me: Jo gratefully, Sam and Dean…not that excitedly. "What? Don't look at me like that, you two. This is our job. We cant just sit back on our asses and let people die."

Sam nodded. "You're right."

"Fine," Dean scowled. "But I was looking forward to at least one day off."

"You can have your day off," Jo compromised. "We'll pack up and leave ASAP, go barhopping tonight, and check things out tomorrow. How's that sound?"

"Sounds fine, except you're forgetting one little thing," I smirked at her. "Someone's probably gonna die tonight."

"That's the point of the barhopping," she said, grinning right back. "All of the victims were last seen at bars. So, we'll be killing two birds with one stone."

"Alright then," Dean gave her a crooked smile. "Sounds good to me. Let's all go get packed up and meet down in the lobby in, say, thirty minutes?"

"Okie dokie."

Dean looked up at me and started laughing.

"What?" I was genuinely confused. "What's so damn funny?"

"You said okie dokie!" he guffawed.

"You are so weird."

* * *

"Can you please put it on something else?" I nearly had to shout to be heard over Dean's music. "I love Metallica as much as the next person, but I cant listen to an hour's worth of their greatest hits."

"Come on, Emma. This is real music, not that country crap that's on every station around here."

"Just turn it off!"

"Fine, if you're gonna whine about it."

The music cutoff and the car was silent.

"Thanks."

"Uh-huh."

The silence began to get pretty uncomfortable. Normally whenever I went for a long car ride, I'd just plug my iPod into my radio and have a little sing-a-long. Because I was alone.

But with three other people in the car, what do you do? Play stupid road games like I Spy?

No, you discuss murder.

"Jo, what all did Ellen say about these murders?" Sam said, his voice loud. Apparently I wasn't the only one getting uncomfortable…

"Well, so far one man and one woman have been found dead, both with their shoes full of dirt."

"Graveyard dirt, I bet."

Jo nodded at me. "Yep, that's what mom thinks. She also said something about there being jomo bags, one in the woman's purse, the other in the man's pocket."

"What's a jomo bag?" Dean asked, eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated on the road.

"Its like a hex bag from a witch, just the hoodoo version," I told him. "They can be used for good or bad but, in this case, I think it's safe to say the bags played a part in these people's deaths."

"What are you, some sort of hoodoo guru?" he asked, eyeing me through the rearview mirror.

"Not really, I just know some of what my Aunt Judy used to tell me. She lives right outside New Orleans and knows quite a bit about this kind of stuff."

"Well, that's great. We can run by her place, get her, uh, professional opinion, and solve this case in no time."

I hesitated; I hadn't seen Aunt Judy since my parents' funeral. But we needed her help, so I nodded and picked up my cell phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Aunt Judy, it's me…Emma."

"Emmalaine Marilyn Dixon! My lord, I haven't heard from you in the longest time! What you been up to?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. We're actually heading your way for a case we're on and we were wondering-"

"You better not be investigating those murders, Emmalaine. And what do you mean we? Is Jo with you?"

"Yeah, yeah, she is, along with a couple of other people. But listen, Aunt Judy, Ellen sent us on this one, so if she thinks we can handle it-"

"Oh no, yall cant take this one on. I know you think you can handle everything, but this is just too dangerous. I'm sure that if Ellen knew the half of it, she'd come down here and drag yall's asses right out of the state."

"Look, we're gonna do this whether you help us or not. Now, it'd make it a hell of a lot easier if you did help us, but even if you don't, we'll figure something out."

"But, Emma-"

"You know we will. So just help us out. Please?"

The other line was quite for a moment.

"Fine. Fine, fine, fine. But if yall get yourselves killed, my conscious will be clear, because I warned you!"

"Yes ma'am, we know. We should be there in about another hour."

"Alright, sweetheart. I'll see yall soon. Oh, wait, what did you mean some other people are with yall?"

Smiling inwardly, I said, "Oh, you'll see."


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Thanks for reading my story. I really hope that I'll continue to get reviews! Like I said, I'm trying to make the chapters longer, so wish me luck.

Chapter 12

Now, one of the most important things to know about Aunt Judy is that when her first husband died, she came into a lot of money (his great uncle died and left him a shitload of cash. Who knew?). As an elemental, like myself, she had always been a hunter, so her property was just about as safe as the White House on any given day.

I knew that I'd have quite a bit of explaining to do, but it didn't hit me how much explaining was in my future until we came upon the gate that led to her house.

"What the hell is this?" Dean asked, looking up at the intricate wrought iron structure.

"Just roll down your window," I instructed, unbuckling my seatbelt and leaning up between him and Sam. He followed my directions and sent me a questioning glance.

"Emmalaine, is that you?"

I spoke right into the little metal box sticking up beside the car. "Yes ma'am, its us."

"Alright, come on in."

The gates opened slowly and Dean zoomed in. The long winding driveway was lined with mossy oaks and colorful flowers that seemed to always be in bloom. It wasn't that long of a drive, only about a third of a mile's worth, but the boys were getting anxious.

"So, your aunt's loaded, huh?" Dean asked, examining the immaculately manicured grounds. "How old is she, exactly?"

"Well, she was the oldest of the three Wilcox sisters, so she's probably around fifty now."

He was quite for a moment. "Oh, never mind."

"Where is it she lives?" Sam was glancing all around, staring at everything we passed. "Those smaller homes look almost like-"

"Slaves quarters?" I filled in and he nodded. "Yeah, she lives in what used to be a Plantation owned by the Devillier's family. She was working a case here right after her husband Tommy died and she came into all his money. So, after getting rid of all the spirits here, she bought the place and renovated it. She doesn't hunt anymore, but she is still one paranoid woman."

"Do you remember that one time we were working the job in Biloxi and Aunt Judy showed up there?" Jo smiled almost villainously and I chuckled.

"You mean, when she busted us at that strip bar?"

"Yeah, how did she even know we were there?"

"She was having us tailed. I guess she knew we were running low on money and needed some quick."

"Yeah, but that was a fun a night. I mean, when she walked in and we were-"

"Hold up," Dean interrupted, eyes bright in the rearview mirror. "The two of you stripped for cash?"

Jo's eyes widened, her jaw dropped, and her eyebrows furrowed. "No, of course not! We have this little thing called self respect."

"All we did was bartend," I clarified, secretly enjoying his and Sam's expressions: Dean's of pure lust and excitement, Sam's of shock and appreciation. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

But Dean didn't come up with a witty retort, because at that moment we pulled up in front of the house. It was truly beautiful: painted a sunny yellow, three stories high, a wraparound porch on every level, soft pink shutters, and a turquoise door. Not the typical hunter home.

Dean parked the Impala right at the front steps where a woman was already waiting for us. We got out and made our way up the steps.

"Emmalaine!"

"Hey Aunt Judy." She engulfed me in a warm hug, rocking us back and forth on our feet.

She let go of me and turned to Jo. "And Jo, sweetheart, how are you?"

"I'm doing great," Jo said as Aunt Judy hugged her.

Once she released Jo she turned to Sam and Dean.

"Well now, what do we have here?" The brothers stood still right next to each other as she looked them over. "Strong chins, green eyes, charming smiles, why, yall must be John's boys."

The brothers were clearly taken aback. "You know our dad?" Sam asked.

"Sure do. Now, you must be Sam," she commented, pointing at Dean. "So then you're Dean," she nodded to Sam.

"Actually, it's the opposite," I informed her, trying (and failing) to keep a straight face. Sam obviously thought it was funny too, but Dean didn't; his facial expression suggested the converse of amusement.

"Oh my, I see the good Lord got yalls heights mixed up, but that's okay." Jo sniggered behind me at Aunt Judy's assessment and final words. "So hows about some lunch," Dean perked up immediately. "Yall've been on the road a long while. I get Roberto to fix yall up something good." She went to hurry off, but turned back to me. "Oh, Emmalaine, show the boys to their rooms."

"Which ones?"

"Oh, I think they'll enjoy the Blue and Green Rooms." And then she was off.

"Come on, then," I said. "Lets get our stuff and go."

Jo and I led the way back to the car, Sam and Dean following behind us looking a little dazed.

* * *

"So we really get separate rooms?" Dean clarified for the thousandth time as we climbed the steps to the second floor.

"Yes."

"Like, two rooms, each with their own bed?"

"Yes, Dean."

"Seriously?"

"Dean," Jo broke in. "If you ask another question, I swear to God I'll-"

"Here we are. Dean, yours is the first on the left. Sam, you've got the second on the left." I gave them both their keys, then tossed Jo hers. "You know where you're staying."

She laughed and caught the key, turning to the door right across from Dean's and unlocking it.

"The Yellow Room, as always," she chuckled, then looked behind her back into the hall. "What do you think, Dean?"

"I have never seen so much green in my life," was all he said before slamming the door shut and locking it.

"Sam?" I asked, and he turned towards me, his door open.

"This is incredible," he smiled. "Is that the original chandelier?"

I nodded. "Aunt Judy just spruced it up. Most of the stuff here is from the original house, but she likes to make things her own."

"Its really something else," he said, still in awe it seemed then turned to me. " What about your room?"

I unlocked my door and held it open for him to see.

"Pink?"

"Yeah, it was my favorite when I was little," I laughed. "Now its just…kinda overwhelming."

He nodded in agreement. "Just a bit. So, should we go down for lunch?"

"Yeah probably," Jo said, then went over to Dean's door and banged on it.

"Go away!" he bellowed.

"Its time for lunch!"

The door flew open and there was Dean, smiling. "Then what are we waiting for, lets go."

* * *

It was around 10:30 that night when we finally decided to go out into the city. It was only a fifteen minute drive from Aunt Judy's, a straight shot.

Jo and I went to get ready (what can I say, we may be hunters, but we're still girls – we want to look pretty too) and were downstairs within fifteen minutes. Both Sam and Dean's eyes lit up when we entered the room; apparently, they couldn't get used to seeing us in short dresses and heels.

"What hell are you wearing?" Dean said, looking at Jo distastefully.

"Clothes, Dean, I'm wearing clothes. Can we go now?"

"No, not until you change."

Jo look positively livid. "Dean, stop being an asshole. There is nothing wrong with my clothes, and you know it. Calm the fuck down." She stalked out the front door and waited beside the car.

"I'm just worried about her, that's all," he said, glancing between me and Sam. "Those assholes in the city are gonna be all over her dressed like that."

"Maybe that's what she wants," I suggested. "She can take care of herself. She'll be fine."

"Whatever…lets just go."

We all piled in and Dean took off; the drive was pretty quiet, but Sam and I tried to keep up a running conversation to get rid of the tension. We just talked about stupid, unimportant things for a while, but then Sam started to get down to business.

"So, I guess we'll just keep and eye out for anything unusual," he said. "I've got my EMF, so if anything's not right we can check it out."

"Sounds good. So," I started, trying not to sound obvious. "I was thinking, maybe we should split off into groups of two. You know, to cover more ground, check out more bars."

"Yeah," Sam nodded enthusiastically. "Emma and I can start at one end of Bourbon Street and you two can go to the other. We'll meet in the middle around 2:30ish and compare notes."

Dean's eyes kept flitting from the road in front of him to his rearview mirror where he could see Jo, clearly waiting for her to say something.

"Whatever," she drawled and I gave her an expectant look. She rolled her eyes. "Fine, it's a good idea and I agree, we'll definitely cover more ground."

"Okay," Dean said. His gaze drifted back towards Jo, but he caught my eyes in the mirror. I cocked an eyebrow and he shifted his attention back to the road.

* * *

Dean and Jo dropped me and Sam off at the corner of Canal and Bourbon. We were to meet at the corner of Bourbon and St. Ann at 2:30, but Sam was scepticle.

"Something tells me the two of them wont show till at least 4," he joked, but I could detect and undercurrent of seriousness in his tone. Not that I could blame him; Jo was quite the partier and, from what she told me, so was Dean.

"Come on, Sam," I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the nearest bar. "Let's just have fun for once."

The first place we went into was a traditional little bar that reminded me of the Roadhouse: all wood, rough looking people, and an old jukebox against the wall. Sam and I made our way up to the bar; he ordered a beer, I got a Jack and Coke. It took a little while, but Sam eventually loosened up…once I had gotten some real alcohol in him.

After a few shots of whiskey, we were getting into the full swing of things; not drunk, per se, just a little tipsy. I decided that the bar was too quiet, so I borrowed two quarters from Sam and walked over to the jukebox.

* * *

Sam POV

I couldn't help but notice the natural sway of her hips as she made her way over to the far wall. Through my alcohol induced haze, I took note of the slight arch of her back tanned back when she leaned over to select a song. Her cut off shorts, sequined tank top, and strappy heels did her justice; she showed just enough skin to be sexy, but not enough to be trampy. Emma straightened up, turned and smiled at me just as Blondie's "Rapture" started playing. As much as I would like to blame it on the whiskey, I know I would have gotten up and danced with her when she motioned for me in that subtle, sexy little way only she could. Before I was even standing, she was dancing: swinging her hips this way and that, eyes closed blissfully, arms in the air, face skyward, long blond hair swaying in a golden sheet across her back.

I knew I was in deep.

* * *

Now, I wont lie, but Sam wasn't the most coordinated dancer in the world. But he's a giant and was slightly inebriated, so I don't blame him much.

Bad dancer or not, I loved being up against him like that, my back against his chest (or abdomen, really, considering the height difference). He made me feel good, no matter what we were doing; even when we were running up the stairs of the old Reeves House, I'd felt safe in his presence.

Eventually the music died out and we moved on to the next bar. This one was a little bit more risqué than the first, but that didn't bother us. We danced some more, this time to more recent music, and got even more intoxicated. But we were having so much fun that we truly didn't care.

The night became morning and we continued on from one bar or club to the next. The street was crowded and full of possible suspects, but we weren't thinking about the case.

We were too busy having fun to notice the group of girls in front of us, all around 17 or 18, that was following a young man from one bar to the next. We were too drunk to see them approach him, hear them talk to him, observe when they led him down a dark ally…

Realize that they murdered him.


	13. Chapter 13

AN: Well, here's chapter 13. Please review! In fact, if anyone does review, I'd like to know if they have any suggestions on how the story should continue.

Chapter 13

The first thing that came to my mind the next morning was "Sam sure is warm".

I snuggled in closer to his side, but it wasn't until his arm wrapped around my waist that my brain actually caught up and comprehended what was going on. As soon as it did, my eyes shot open. We were in his room, the Blue Room, and Sam was lying next to me, shirtless. I did a little self evaluation: I wasn't wearing my shoes anymore, or my sparkly tank top, but I was still in my jean shorts and what appeared to be a large button up, Sam's I assumed.

Judging by the presence of my shorts, I knew I was in the clear; there was no way I'd do the dirty with Sam and then put my shorts back on!

I glanced up at his face, and my eyes met his. He smiled at me.

"Good morning."

"Good morning."

"You know, I was almost expecting to wake up alone."

I rolled my eyes jokingly at his tone. "Butthead."

He laughed and kissed me on top of the head. "Do you want to get up?"

"Are you crazy? I don't ever want to get up," I gave him a mischievous smirk. "I'm just too damn comfortable."

He chuckled again and we lapsed into silence. But I had to ask him something that was weighing pretty heavily on my mind.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened last night?"

He didn't say anything for a minute, so I shifted a little bit and looked up at him.

He sighed. "You wanted to…you know, but I said no and you got pretty pissed but forgave me easily enough."

"So that's it?" I was happy that nothing had really happened between the two of us because I wouldn't have remembered it, but at the same time…

"Yeah, that was pretty much it. I mean," he smirked at me. "We didn't just lay here and sleep, but…" He let the rest of the statement just hand there, yet I was satisfied.

He dozed back off after a little while, but sleep never claimed me.

He grunted in his sleep and pulled me tight up against his side, my head on his chest, and his chin on my forehead. I curled into him and laid my hand upon his chest, feeling his heartbeat reverberate through his ribcage. His warmth spread over me and, for once, I was at peace.

But, of course, that couldn't last too long.

"Sammy!"

Dean banged the door open and sauntered into the room, already dressed, but looking hung over as hell. He froze at the sight of us on the bed, and shook his head.

"Really, dude? You'll sleep with her, but you won't SLEEP with her? What the hell is that?"

"Have you ever heard of this little thing called knocking?" was his retort, though it didn't pack much of a punch with such a sleepy tone. "Now get the hell out, I'd really like just a couple more minutes of happiness, thank you." With that, he nuzzled his face into my hair and sighed.

"As much as I care about your happiness, its time to get up. There was another murder last night."

* * *

"What was his name?" I asked, not even a full 5 minutes later, when we entered the kitchen.

"Mark Giannotti, 21, a native New Yorker. Here's his picture," Jo held it up. There was something awfully familiar about him: dark eyes, long straight brown hair, tan skin. The main things that made him so memorable were his snake bite lip rings. I knew I had seen him somewhere before, I just wasn't positive where. It had to have been last night, but had it been in a bar? A club? Just walking down the street?

"Name's not ringing any bells," Sam said, studying the picture intently. "But with the lip piercings…I know I saw him somewhere last night."

"Then I guess we'll just have to go back tonight," Dean smiled, but I broke in before he could get too excited.

"Yes, but only one beer a piece." He and Jo both shot me a glare. "Seriously, yall, we can't miss anything this time. If we'd been paying attention last night, this man," I gestured down at the picture, "would still be alive."

* * *

The rest of the day passed quickly enough, considering Dean hadn't come in to get us up until a little after three o'clock in the afternoon.

We got ready in the same manner as the night before, but everyone was sure to make a few important changes: Dean didn't shave at all and wore dress pants and a button up; Jo donned a surprisingly natural looking red wig and a knee length, flowing dress; Sam found an old pair of glasses and baseball hat and paired them with a t-shirt and khaki shorts; and I was stuck with curling my hair and wearing some of Aunt Judy's clothes from the '70's ( I must say, the flower print mini skirt and breezy white blouse were cute…just not very me).

This time, instead of taking the Impala – something Dean wasn't too pleased with – we borrowed Aunt Judy's baby blue Thunderbird – something Jo was very pleased with. She volunteered to drive the moment Aunt Judy suggested it and, just a little while later, we were back on Bourbon Street. But this time, we decided to switch starting points; Jo and Dean took the Canal entrance, while Sam and I started out on the other end, on Esplanade Avenue.

We took our sweet time for the first part of the night, meandering through the streets (hand in hand…) and just watching the people around us. But all we saw were street performers, a small group of hookers that quickly dispersed at the sound of sirens a few streets over, and a bunch of drunks.

Sam and I made our way into a small bar, ordered a beer, and discussed the case quietly.

"I just wish we knew what we're looking for. I mean, I'd expect it to be some crazy old lady in a cheap Mumu walking around warning people that the end is near and putting some hoodoo on the ones that make fun of her." I started, and then paused. "But there is a pattern, you know? It was a man that was killed first, then a young woman, then another man."

"So, they'll probably be after a woman tonight," Sam finished the thought for me.

"Exactly. So what do we do? Try to keep tabs on every young woman on the street?"

"No," he grimaced, gazing at me. "We give them one."

* * *

"You're shitting me, Sammy," Dean growled when we met him and Jo at St. Ann's street a few minutes later. Sam had called him and told him to meet us there, that we had a plan. The only problem was, the boys weren't sure who should be the bait: Jo or me.

Of course, she and I weren't gonna let them decide for us.

"You know it's my turn," I said as she and I turned away from the boys. "You got to do it last time and you promised I could have it on the next gig."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she grumbled and pouted. We looked back at Sam and Dean and she sighed. "They are so hard headed. Hey, boys!" They looked at us in alarm; they'd been so caught up in their conversation, they hadn't seen us walk a little ways away. "We've made our decision!"

They made their way towards us, a little hesitant.

"I'm gonna be the bait," I announced.

Dean still looked worried, but slightly relieved; Jo wasn't going to be in as much danger as he had feared she would.

Sam, on the other hand, was pissed.

"No, Emma, it's not safe. Dean and I were talking about it and we just don't think it's a good idea."

"You were the one that suggested it!"

"I know, but I didn't think it through. I'm serious-"

"Me too, so I'm doing this whether you like it or not."

He went silent; it was easy to tell that I wasn't going to budge. Sam nodded and sighed dejectedly.

"Okay, so you and I need to go somewhere and have a public fight," I said. "You're gonna get mad at me about something, then you'll take off and meet up with them and then track me. This killer is obviously trying to get people that are alone, so this'll probably work."

"Oh, wait a second." Jo reached into her purse, riffled around in it for a moment, and pulled out a large, chunky watch. She handed it to me, then turned to the boys when she saw their confusion and explained. "It's a tracker. We'll be able to find her if something happens."

* * *

Sam and I walked into the bar holding hands and being all sickeningly cute and coupley; I didn't realize how hard giggling really is, or how annoying it can be when you have to do it for a good half an hour. We finally got down to business when I started to 'get drunk'. That was the fun part.

I acted like a complete and total bitch, complaining about everything to Sam. Then I started flirting with the guys sitting next to us and, eventually, I made a big scene. Sam shouted at me, saying how annoying and controlling and possessive I was. He even called me a whore, which turned out to be the icing on the cake. The guys I was practically all over (and who all had horrendous breath) started shouting right back and Sam stormed out.

It took me a little while after that to ditch the group of creepers, but pretty soon I was alone, wandering down the street. I did my best to look completely shitfaced (which Jo later told me was only a mediocre performance), but nothing happened.

At least, not to me.

I was just nearing the first bar Sam and I had ventured into the night before when I saw them.

It was the same group of girls we had seen wandering the streets last night.

There were five of them, each just as pretty as the next, all dressed in expensive mini-dresses and strappy heels. The first was a redhead, tall and lean, with a stylish pair of glasses resting on the bridge of her nose; next to her was a curvy brunette, clearly Hispanic; then there was a smaller Asian girl with long, straight black hair that fell to the small of her back; next in line was a busty blonde (I could help but think, 'way to live up to the stereotype') with a tiny waist and thin legs; and last was a taller black girl with a head of perfectly poofed ringlets and a charming smile.

They walked right past me without a second glance.

I turned and followed them with my eyes for a minute, then went after them on foot. They couldn't have been more than 17, I realized, though they were obviously trying to look older. They kept up a pretty quick pace, which was quite a feat with their arms linked the entire time, but it was almost like people instinctively moved out of their way.

The group came to a sudden halt in front of a wooden bench situated outside one of the most populated clubs on the street. There was a young woman sitting on it, clearly drunk as a skunk. The girls turned and began to talk to her and, after a few minutes, the woman stood up and linked arms with the redhead.

They continued on down the street and I kept following them until they turned down a deserted side street. I was torn: should I go after them? Or should I just let it go?

I made up my mind pretty quickly; there was something strange about those girls and I wanted to know what it was.

I snuck along behind them until, about halfway down the block, they entered a small alleyway. I knew I shouldn't go in there after them – I'm not that dumb – so I stood up against the wall closest to the alley entrance and just listened.

"It wont hurt a bit," a soft, kind voice said. "We promise. You know we'd never hurt you."

"I'm not sure about this anymore," the woman, I was sure, was crying, near hysterics.

"Shh, shh, you're safe with us," another voice intoned, just as calming as the first.

That's when I knew something was wrong, very wrong, with those girls.

I looked down at the watch (of course, it wouldn't actually have the time) and pressed the small red button on the side. I needed Sam, Jo, and Dean and pushing the panic button would get them to me pretty quick.

Sure enough, not a full five seconds later, a hand gripped my hip.

"What is it?" Sam whispered, his mouth against my ear. I had to hold back a shudder and ignore the tingle down my spine.

"That group of girls, I think it's them, they're the killers."

He looked behind us and motioned for Dean and Jo, who I could just see peeking out from another alley a few yards back.

The sound of a scuffle from the other alley brought my attention back to the situation at hand.

"Please," the woman was whimpering. "Please, just let me go. I won't tell anyone, I swear."

"Sorry, sugar, we just can't take that chance."

Sam reached into his waist band and pulled out his gun. He slid into the entrance of the alley and shouted, "Step away from her!"

Dean sprinted to his side. "He said get the hell away from her! Now do it!"

I peeked around the corner. The young woman had her back pressed up against the opposite wall with the five girls standing in front of her. They were all staring at Sam and Dean, bemused little smiles on their pretty faces.

"Fine chicos, you win," the Latina said as she and the others took a step back in unison. "Just put the guns down before you hurt yourselves." Dean scoffed at her and she smirked. "Don't be such pendejos, put the guns down."

There was something about her voice, as calming as it was, that held a sour note to it. Both Sam and Dean lowered their weapons, dazed looks on their faces.

Suddenly Jo was behind me. "Those idiots." Then she was gone too, rounding the corner with her gun raised.

"Oh, this is mierda," the girl said, eyeing Jo venomously.

"Get down on the ground, on your stomachs," Jo instructed. Of course none of them listened, so I decided to step in.

"Do it. Now," I ordered, but they all just glared back at me. "I'll count to three and if yall aren't down by the time I'm done…I'll have to put yall down myself. One … Two … Three." They were still standing. "Well," I said with a shrug, feeling my eyes flash. "Cant say I didn't warm ya."

Then the ground dropped out from under them. High pitched shrieks filled the air, but I knew no one would hear them.

"So, what's a herd of jailbait doing out at this time of the night, and on Bourbon Street, of all places?" I teased, enjoying the looks of pure loathing I was receiving. "Looking for sacrifices, or something?" They remained silent. "Oh, come on girls, I don't bite!"

The blonde rolled her eyes. "We're just having fun, okay?"

"So, I guess luring some innocent woman into a dark alley is your idea of fun?" Jo broke in. "We're not stupid. Tell us the truth, or consider yourselves SOL, cause we can just leave your uppity little asses down there. Hell," she glanced at me, "we can just bury you, right here, right now. You've got options, pick one."

"I think there's one you forgot," the redhead piped up.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, the one where you just let us go." Her voice had become all sweet and calming, but what did she think she could do, charm their way out of it?

Apparently, that was what she thought, and for good reason.

Jo's once stoic face became confused, then blissful. She lowered her gun and went to stand next to Sam and Dean. I followed her with my gaze, absolutely astounded.

"Now," the redhead continued. "You should get us up out of here and go stand with your friends."

"Why the hell would I do that?"

She shared a worried, perplexed look with the other girls. "Because I said so."

"Sorry, sweetheart," I drawled. "But I don't take orders from little girls."

"Why isn't it working?" the little Asian girl whispered to the Hispanic one, who just shrugged.

"Fine then," the black girl spoke up and walked over to the side of the pit. "We'll just climb out, bitch."

My eyes flashed again and my hands began to tingle. With a rush of heat and wind, the entire top ledge of the pit was covered in bright orange flames.

"See," I said, "That might be a little difficult."

The blond glared up at me, then reached into her purse and pulled out something too small to make out. She knelt on the ground and started to whisper something.

"What are you doing?" I asked, urgency leaking into my tone. I felt my eyes begin to get heavy and sleep start to take over. "You little-"

Then everything went dark.


	14. Chapter 14

AN: Thanks again for the reviews!

Chapter 14

The very first thing I was aware of when I awoke was how comfortable I was; there was a plush pillow under my head, soft sheets, and I was in what had to be a pair of pajamas.

I opened my eyes with trepidation, but all I was met with was a spine tingling eyeful of pink. I was in the Pink Room, at Aunt Judy's house. I sat up quickly and my head began to pound; whatever those little brats had done left me feeling like I had drunk at least four full size bottles of patron. I somehow got out of bed, and through the doorway, though my legs shook with every step I took and my arms ached as I steadied myself against the walls.

I made it into the hallway and glanced out a nearby window; it was dark out, but there was no way of telling what time of the night it was. I turned and looked down the staircase, realizing that there was no way in hell that I could make it down one step, let alone a full flight of them. So, instead, I waddled over to Sam's door and knocked.

The door burst open, revealing a shirtless Sam wearing a pair of pajama pants. Judging by the dark circles under his eyes and their odd brightness, I thought it was safe to say that he hadn't slept much.

"Emma." He leaned down and pulled me against him in a tight hug. My appendages were still quivering and he noticed. "Why are you shaking?" He didn't give me time to answer; Sam swooped down and lifted me up bridal style and carried me into his room. After laying me down on his bed, he knelt over me and placed a large hand on my forehead. "You're a little warm…"

"I'm fine," I was finally able to say, though I couldn't help but be ashamed by how weak and creaky my voice was. "But what happened? How did we get here?"

He sighed and rubbed his eyes before crawling up next to me in the bed, pulling me against him once more, and beginning the story.

"Since you were there at the first part, I'll just start from when they put you to sleep. Well, you fell pretty hard on the ground and the moment you were out the fire at the top of the pit went out, then the pit itself leveled up. Jo, Dean, and I…well, I don't know for sure what they did to us, but it was sort of similar to what sirens do: they had us under some sort of spell. Anyways, so the three of us were just standing there and it was like I wanted to help you, but I was physically incapable of getting to you.

"Those girls walked over to us and said something about us needing to get out of their business, and a bunch of other teenage crap, and then they just left."

"Just like that?"

"Well," he glanced down at me, "not exactly. You remember the young woman that was with them?" I nodded. "They took her with them. By the time we were in control of ourselves again, they were gone and it was too late.

"We had to carry you down Bourbon Street, but people didn't even notice. It's pretty common there, I guess. But I was so scared you weren't gonna wake up. When we got back here, you aunt and Jo got you cleaned up and in bed, but they wouldn't let me come sit with you." He chuckled. "Aunt Judy said it 'wasn't ladylike'."

I smiled weakly. "Thank God she can't see us right now."

He laughed again and reached down to pull the covers from the bottom of the bed on top of us. I snuggled into his chest and inhaled that manly, sexy scent that was Sam. He rested his cheek on top of my head and, as I felt myself falling back into dreamland, he said, "Yeah, thank God."

* * *

When I woke up again, I was alone.

At first, I panicked, sitting up too quickly again and searching the room with my eyes. But then I noticed the light shining from under the bathroom door and heard the sound of the shower running. I took a few deep breaths and lay back down. Through the small gap between the window and the curtain, I could see early morning light peeking in; glancing over at the old clock on the dresser, I saw that it was a little after 6:30. So I did what any sensible person would do after being knocked out by hoodoo magic and waking up at an ungodly hour in Sam Winchester's bed: I rolled over and buried my face into his pillow and tried to drift back off to sleep.

Five minutes later, I was still awake. I shifted and rolled and snuggled what felt like a thousand different ways, but could not doze back off. I finally lay so I was almost diagonal in the bed – my head on Sam's pillow, feet hanging off my side – and, at last, I was comfortable. Not even 30 seconds later, I heard the water switch off and the sound of a towel being pulled from a rack. I was facing the bathroom door so, when it opened, I slit my eyes, hoping they'd look closed, in an attempt to see a half naked Sam.

And, praise the Lord, it worked. He stepped through the doorway and back into the bedroom, the bathroom lights behind him providing a silhouette, but no distinct features: hair still dripping, broad muscular shoulders, slim waist, and the bulky skirt of the towel riding low on his hips. He reached to the light switch near the doorframe and flicked it, sending everything back into darkness.

Which sucked, because now I wouldn't get to see all of the 'details' Sam had to offer.

I heard his footsteps as he made his way to the chair near the bed, then the sliding of material as he dressed. He padded over to the bed, but I didn't bother to close my eyes, it was too dark to see anything.

Sam reached down and lifted me just a few inches off the bed as he got into it, then lay me back down, my face against his chest. I could hear his heartbeat, loud and steady, as well as the whooshing of air through his lungs. He stroked my hair gently, running it through his fingers, letting it fall back onto the pillow as he started humming to himself. It took me a minute to realize what it was exactly, but when I did, I knew I couldn't feign sleep any longer.

"I didn't know you were such a big Little Mermaid fan."

He jumped a little when I spoke, but started laughing at my comment. "Hey now, 'Part of Your World' is a great song."

We laughed over that then just laid there and talked about the case.

"Jo had her camera with her, so she got quite a few pictures of them," Sam was saying, still playing with my hair. "She said she's got some sort of connections with the police department down here and that she could probably get names."

"Oh yeah," I said absentmindedly, not really focusing on the conversation; I was too caught up in him. "I forgot about Marc, haven't seen him in years."

"Who's Marc?"

"Okay, don't tell Dean, but he's one of Jo's ex's."

"Really?" Sam sounded almost sort of giddy, almost like a little kid. It was freaking adorable.

"Uh-huh, but he wanted commitment, like real commitment…"

"What do you mean?"

"He asked her to marry him, but she said no. Didn't really like him all that much, apparently."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, but it was broken by Sam.

"So, what do you say we get dressed," I frowned, not liking this plan already, "and go scare the shit out of Dean and Jo?"

"I guess you'll get Dean, I'll get Jo?" I asked, a bit put out.

"Nope, we'll get both of them."

I was still confused. "What, we aren't gonna do it at the same time?"

"She snuck into his room last night after Aunt Judy went to bed."

I perked up immediately.

"Oh hell yes!"

* * *

I went back to my room to change into a pair of jeans and a tank top, then met – an unfortunately dressed – Sam in the hall.

"Okay, so here's what we're gonna do," he whispered conspiratorially. "We sneak in, you go to whatever side Jo's on and I'll go to the side Dean's on and I'll count to three," he held up three fingers, "then we jump on them."

"Um, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"What if they're, you know, naked?"

"Nah," he laughed quietly. "They won't be. They wouldn't hook up with me right next door and you across the hall."

"You're right," I said, humoring him. "They'd never do that."

He grabbed my hand and we padded to the door. I opened it and we crept towards the bed, unlocking our fingers and each heading to a separate side; Jo slept in the same place I did in Sam's bed, nearest the window. Since we had left the door open, I could plainly see Sam's hand when he held it up in the air and counted from one finger, to two, then three.

In perfect unison, we launched onto the bed: me landing hard atop Jo's chest, making her sit straight up wheezing; Sam across Dean's legs, forcing him to do the same.

Sam and I were on our backs, absolutely roaring with laughter until I looked up at Jo and screamed, covering my eyes immediately. Sam heard my shriek and glanced over too.

"I was wrong!" He shouted, grabbing me by my wrist and pulling me across Dean, into his arms, and then onto his shoulder. "I was completely wrong!" He ran from the room, back into the hallway, and then into his room.

He flipped me onto his bed, then plopped down beside me. I was mortified; never had I ever walked in on Jo after…THAT. I turned my head to look at Sam. We made eye contact and then we were laughing even harder than before, unable to stop.

"I told you so!" I finally managed to get out. "I knew they wouldn't be able to keep their pants on!"

"Oh my God," he gasped out, nearly crying from laughing so hard. "That was so awkward."

"You're telling me; you didn't have to see your best friend's boobs!"

We laid there a little while longer, still chuckling sporadically. He had started playing with my hair again, a habit that I was really starting to like. His eyes were shut happily, but opened suddenly. He looked at me, then rolled on top of me, keeping his weight off of me with his arms. His eyes burned into mine, showing such sudden heat, desire, and want.

And then he was kissing me.

It started off hot and fiery and then melded into slow, deep passionate kisses. I was in heaven, enjoying every thrust of his tongue, move of his lips, and sound he made. He held me so tenderly, yet wasn't too gentle.

After I got over the shock of kissing him, I flipped us over so that I was on top. Straddling him around the waist, I leaned down and we melded our lips together. He gripped my hips and sighed into my mouth before pulling away. I stayed where I was, but lay on top of him, my chest against his and my head under his chin.

"Emma?"

"Uh-huh?"

"We can't pull a 'Jo and Dean' right now, can we?"

"Sorry, but I don't think so, not right now."

"That's what I thought."

"But hey," I laughed and sat up a little bit. "That doesn't mean we can't enjoy each other's company."

Then I claimed his lips with my own.

* * *

We got down to breakfast about half and hour later and I know I, for one, was mortified to see Jo and Dean down there as well. Dean didn't seem fazed by the incident at all – in fact, he thought it was funny.

"That little stunt you two pulled this morning? Classic!"

Jo, on the other hand, was very quiet, not talking at all unless asked a direct question.

"Jo, have you called Marc yet?"

"No."

"Why don't you call him right now?"

"Okay."

She walked out of the kitchen and, once I heard her going up the stairs, I turned to Dean.

"What the hell did you do?" I whisper shouted at him, balling my fists in anger. "What's wrong with her?"

He looked taken aback by my outburst, but became indignant, not scared. "I didn't do anything, okay? She's just embarrassed is all."

"Embarrassed?" Sam asked, eyeing him doubtfully.

"Yeah, embarrassed. To be honest, I don't think she was planning on telling you anything about us, Emma."

"Oh…"

"Look," he said, his tone the most gentle I had ever heard it. "Its not that she didn't want you to know, she was just worried that it would cause issues. Now that the truth's out, she's waiting for everything to go south."

"Did she tell you that?"

"Not in so many words. You know how she is."

I nodded. "Hey, do you remember what I told you a couple days ago, when I was making breakfast?" He thought about it for a moment, then his face paled. "Good, cause I'm dead serious. If you do anything – and I mean anything – that hurts her in any way, I will hunt you down and I will burn you alive, you understand?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good."

"Hey, Marc says he can help us." Jo made her way back down the stairs and into the kitchen. She looked considerably happier and was suddenly much more talkative. "He also said for us to come down to the station and to bring the camera so he can take a look."

* * *

"Jo, Emma, how you girls doin?" Marc asked us as we entered the New Orleans Police Department. "I've gotta say, I've missed the two of ya. Not so much the trouble that comes along everywhere yall go, though."

He led us back to his office and almost shut the door in Sam and Dean's faces.

"They're with us," Jo said hurriedly.

Marc gave them both a once over, shrugged and let them in without a word.

Sam looked annoyed and clearly didn't like Marc very much. Dean, however, had murder in his eyes.

"Okay, lets see these photos you've got there, darlin," Marc said, sidling close behind Jo as she fished her camera out of her bag. They went through all of the pictures in less than three minutes, but that seemed to be as long as Marc needed.

"I know them, all right," he said, sitting down at his desk and pulling up the internet. We all shuffled behind him to get a closer look.

He pulled up Facebook of all things and typed in the name "Delta Broussard". The profile of the blonde girl from the group came up. Marc went to her pictures and, after a little browsing, found one of all five girls.

"Carmela Rodriguez, Rachael Le, Dominique Robinson, and Katelyn Butcher. Delta and them have been friends for years. They all go to the same school: Convent of Mother Mary High School. It's an all girl's Catholic school right outside of the city."

"An all girl's catholic school?" I thought Dean was about to piss his pants, he looked so excited.

"Yeah, and the school year starts tomorrow. You know," he glanced between me and Jo, giving us a meaningful look. "I hear they take late admissions."

* * *

"Hello, are you Sister Mary Katherine?"

The young nun smiled at Jo and me, and motioned us into her small, bare office. "Yes, I am. And you are?"

"My name is Kourtney Adams," I said as I shook her hand. God, I hated lying to nuns. "My cousin, Beth, and I are interested in applying here."

"Okay then, if I can just get you two to fill these out," she reached behind her desk and pulled out two clipboards with at least half and inch of paper on each, "we should be set. All we'll have to do is get in touch with your old schools to settle the matter of your transcripts, but that won't be any problem. Oh, and you'll need to go to the school store to get your uniforms."

We took the clipboards and the pens she handed us, thanked her, then went and sat in the chairs outside her door. Jo and I exchanged a look before filling all of the forms out.

To be perfectly honest, I did not think that this was a good idea. For starters, I had to change my appearance big time since the five girls already knew what I looked like. So I'd been forced to dye the bottom layer of my hair black (Jo said it would wash out in a couple of weeks, but I didn't believe a word of it) and straighten it. Furthermore, I'd been told by Dean of all people how to do my make-up. Dean! So there I sat, a mound of back eyeliner and eye shadow rimming my eyes and bright red lipstick on my lips. Yes, I looked like a wannabe hardass.

Moreover, the plan itself was complete and total shit; how were Jo and I – I mean, Beth and Kourtney – supposed to get into the inner circle of those five girls?

I had just gotten about halfway through my stack of papers when the door to the lobby opened and Sam and Dean walked in, both dressed in their 'monkey suits'.

We heard them go into Sister Mary Katherine's office and introduce themselves.

"Hello, Sister. I'm Agent Hetfield, and this is my partner Agent Newsted," Dean said, sounding as smooth as always. "We are in the midst of busting open a really big case, and we need your help."

"My help?"

"Yes ma'am," Sam said. "You see, we need alias and a position in which we can monitor the situation carefully before everything come to fruition. We talked to the local diocese and they recommended your school."

The nun sounding surprised and somewhat honored. "Why, of course, I'll do whatever you need."

"Are there any open positions at the school right now? Anything would be fine."

"Well," she thought about it for a moment. "We have been short a janitor for quite some time now, and there is an opening for a theology teacher."

"That's perfect, sister." I could practically feel Dean's smirk in his tone. 'So, we'll be here tomorrow morning at 7:30 sharp."

* * *

That night we scrambled to find decent school supplies for the next day. We had gotten our uniforms at the school store, so that was one less thing to worry about, but the list of things we needed…it never seemed to end.

We ran around the more rural part of New Orleans and bought what we needed from the standby store: Walmart.

It wasn't until I was crawling into bed with Sam that night that I realized something: I was nervous. I wasn't just nervous about the case, but about going back to high school.

It'd been a while since I'd been there, but I knew how horrible teenagers could be. Then you have to add into the mix a group of five girls messing around with hoodoo. Not my definition of fun.

But Sam made me feel a lot better. I told him exactly how I felt and he nodded. "High school is just a scary place, I guess. No matter how old you are, it effects you."

We just cuddled – what can I say, we have morals – and whispered a little bit until we fell asleep. The last thing I recall was laying on my side, facing the window, with Sam pressed up behind me. He kissed my shoulder and nuzzled his face into my neck before whispering, "Sweet dreams."


	15. Chapter 15

AN: I really do appreciate the reviews, you guys. So thank you all so much! Sorry this had taken so long, but here it is! I hope to have more stuff out soon!

Chapter 15

Since school started at 8:30, Jo and I took the T-bird while Sam and Dean took, of course, the Impala. Both grumbled about having to leave earlier than us, but we all had to get up at the same time (stupid make-up) to get ready, so we were pretty even.

"Which job are you taking?" I asked Sam as we were sitting down to eat breakfast.

He gave me a slightly incredulous look. "Do you really see Dean teaching theology?"

"True…"

"Hey!" Dean broke in, a forkful of scrambled eggs raised threateningly. "I could totally teach theology. All I'd need is dad's journal and a laptop and we'd be set."

"Hmm, that's funny, because I don't need the journal or the internet to teach it."

"Yeah, well you're a walking encyclopedia of weirdness."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Anyways," I turned to Jo, aka the lucky one. She didn't have to do much to get ready, just apply some makeup and put in a pair of colored contacts. "Which of the girls do you have your first class with?"

"I've got chemistry with Dominique, Rachael, and Katelyn. You?"

"Sam's theology class with Delta and Carmela." I got a sudden thought and turned to look at Sam. "Hey, if you put us all in assigned seating, I'd have a better shot of talking to them."

He smirked at me. "Way ahead of you."

* * *

The moment Jo and I arrived at the school, we knew we were in for one hell of a ride.

The first thing we noticed was the four different colors of skirts worn by the girls. I remembered the woman at the school store mentioning the skirt color for each class. The freshman wore a truly ugly mustard yellow and brown plaid skirt, the sophomore had khaki and burgundy, the juniors sported the traditional red and black, while the seniors got dark navy blue and green. All students had to wear the white button-up as well as a blazer that matched their skirt. Jo and I were both posing as seniors, wearing the blue and green skirts with blue blazers. I could help but cringe at the yellow and brown jackets.

We also couldn't help but realize that there was an obvious clique problem; just out on the front lawn as the girls waited for the bell to ring, you couldn't help but notice all of the different groups.

The first ones we noticed were, for lack of a better word, the geeks. They were the only girls that actually wore their regulation skirts at the right length and didn't have the top few buttons of their collared blouses unbuttoned. Unstylish glasses and cheap, if any, make-up ran rampant, as did large, bulky backpacks that seemed to be close to bursting.

Next were the Goths. Eyes rimmed in black, dark lips, no tan whatsoever, and, of course, combat boots. Always the combat boots. While the geeks had just given Jo and I fleeting glances over the homework they were helping each other with, these girls just stared openly. Their eyes swept over Jo, not pegging her as one of them, but stayed on me, almost like they expected me to come over and join them. But then I remembered how I looked: black eye shadow, painted lips, and, yes, boots (but not combat boots, more like booties, I guess, but still not something I wanted to wear). As much as I hated to disappoint them, there was no way I was going over and making friends with them; I was here for the five girls that were messing where they shouldn't be messing.

After passing them, we came up to the jocks. All of them were pretty buff, though there were a few that I couldn't help but think of as a little large, muscles or not. They carried heavy looking duffel bags with tennis rackets, soccer balls, and all other sorts of sports equipment poking out. None of them paid any attention to us, not that we really cared.

Then we came face to face with the wannabes. Bless their hearts; they really were quite pitiful. If I thought my make-up was caked on, one look at them and I felt like my face was naked. All of them had straightened hair, bleached and dyed and full of product. Unlike the jocks, we got quite a lot of looks from them.

"Who're they?" one girl asked, not bothering to keep her voice down. She was tan, with bleached blonde hair and dark eyebrows.

"How the hell should I know?" the girl next to her answered, her eyes trained on us. Jo and I stared right back.

"They look like a couple of bitches, don't you think? Like they've got it in their minds they're better than us."

I had to grab Jo's wrist to keep her from turning around and beating the snot out of the girl. I wont lie, I wanted a go at her too, but we had a mission, lives were at stake. So we just kept on walking towards the front door. When we reached the steps, we saw them.

It was the same five girls from Bourbon Street, though they had toned down the slut factor a bit…but not much.

They lounged on the stairs leading up to the front doors of the school, dressed the same as us, but with high heels and, of all things, thigh highs held up with thin straps leading to what could only be garter belts.

"Oh God," Jo muttered, venom in her tone. "Dean is gonna be in heaven."

She and I scaled the steps to the front door, intending to go in to Sam's classroom and have a last discussion with him and Dean about the plan. But just as Jo reached for the door handle, someone tapped me on the back. I turned around to find Delta Broussard smiling at me innocently.

"Hi there," she said, her southern accent strong. "My friends and I were wondering if yall two are new here."

"We are," I grinned, playing the role of sweet little new girl as well as I could. "We actually just moved here about a week ago."

"Where from?"

"Um, Pensacola." She gave me a confused look. "Florida?"

"Oh," she giggled girlishly. "I knew that. Well, my name's Delta."

"I'm Kourtney."

"I'm Beth," Jo said, her voice friendly. "We're cousins."

"I can totally tell, yall look so much a like," she gushed. She paused and glanced behind her at her friends. Carmela was giving her an odd look, one that I couldn't quite read. "So," she turned back to us. "Do you want to come sit with me and my friends? I promise we don't bite," she added, giggling again.

Jo gave me a sidelong glance. I kept my happy face on and nodded, "Sure, we'd love to."

* * *

"So, then I was like, oh yeah Anna, BFD. I mean, who really cares if she couldn't do the bibliography cause her grandma was sick? It was pretty much the only thing she had to do!"

Dominique ranted and raved prettily, something that I knew I could never achieve.

"BFD?" Jo questioned, her head cocked to the side. She was playing the dumb blonde well, though I didn't see how anyone could miss the spark of humor in her eyes.

"Big fucking deal?" Dominique gave her a pitying look. "I guess Pensa-whatever doesn't have much culture, huh?"

"Not really," I blurted out almost too quickly, having noticed Jo's face reddening. "There wasn't much to do there. But there seems to be tons of fun around here."

"Yeah," Jo nodded, composing herself. "What do yall do for fun?"

"Oh you know, normal stuff," Rachael said. "Shopping, hanging out with boys, getting our nails done."

"That's all?"

She exchanged a look with the others. "Well, yeah."

"Its just," I smiled at her disappointedly. "We did all of that at home. There's gotta be something yall do that's a little…exciting?"

"We hang out on Bourbon Street at night," she said quickly, trying to regain ground.

Carmela shot her a look, but everyone continued to lounge unconcernedly, though there was a true tension in the air.

"Really, now that's exciting," I crooned, stroking her ego. "What do yall do down there? Get hot tourists to buy you drinks?"

She nodded. "Yeah, its awesome!"

"You know, we'd love to join yall sometime."

Katelyn shot Delta a look, who gave her a calm one in response. "Sure thing. How about tonight?" She paused and smirked at Carmela. "There's a boy Carmela's got her eye on that'll be there. You can help us, umm, track him down."

I grinned and said, "That sounds lovely."


End file.
